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Post by Darsidian on Nov 22, 2012 22:32:26 GMT -6
Darsidian let out a short sound that might have been a laugh if it were not for his exhaustion. “Come noontime, if I’m in any condition to be explaining anything, you’ll have some answers,” he said. And he would answer her questions. But he had danced this danced and paid the piper enough that he knew how to give answers without actually answering questions. If Darsidian didn’t want you to know something, he knew how to keep it from you with cunning misdirection and half-truths, sometimes even blatant lies. And in Darsidian’s view, the less Malice knew about him, the better.
“It wouldn’t be the first night I spent bleeding on the floor,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, but he made no effort to disguise his statement. “But if you won’t accept an apology, I won’t beg for you to take it.” He heard her exhale as he laid down to sleep and he followed suit. “It’s not going to get any easier, Malice,” he said. “There will be days that I come home in worse shape than I did tonight. I’ll not ask you to care for my injuries every time I come home like this, but this is my life. I just want you to know that.”
He shifted to give her some extra room as she swung her feet up into the bed and turned her back to him. For the first few minutes of laying down, he felt the tension in her body, but after those few minutes, he remembered nothing as he slid into blissful sleep.
---
Darsidian woke before Malice, breathing heavily from his dream. He had dreamed of the beast, of the god that had saved him, and a dark forest, the same dreams he had had on and off since he was a child. He shook his head to clear it from the visions, clear as day. He turned over and was only slightly surprised to see Malice there. He vaguely remembered what transpired before he fell asleep, but he had thought that it had been a part of his dream. He allowed himself a small smile before getting up, slipping on some pants.
Before he could find himself a tunic, he had to sit back down on the bed. He was dizzy. Much more so than he expected to be. He felt the bed move as Malice began to stir and looked over his shoulder at her. She had her back to him by the time he turned around and he sighed. He wondered for a moment if he had overstepped a bound. But she turned over and inquired about his injuries and he turned to more fully face her.
“Well enough,” he said. There was no reason to worry her with his dreams. He reached out and pushed her hair off her shoulder. “I will grant you sleeping in a bed probably did wonders. I’m glad you convinced me of it.” He looked at her. He hoped that she would get up and find herself something to eat or something. He wasn’t sure he could pretend to walk straight, not when he had lost so much blood.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 23, 2012 9:52:51 GMT -6
 Before Malice slept, she had let her mind wander to many places, among them all the physical scars on her body that marked times in her life that she'd been really, truly, hurt. First, the burn down her back from when Rousch had pushed her into the fire--a time when she was younger, and she had angered him. Second, the deep scar down her inner thigh, from where the highwayman had "caressed" her with his blade. She had more, most of them from the highwayman, and they were all very visible. But no one else saw them except her, and that was probably what hurt her more than anything. With that in mind, she fell asleep.
---
Darsidian's silence was unnerving for several seconds as Malice was rousing herself. But after she'd promoted her question, he answered, though it was little to her taste. Two words, and she could tell that they were just an answer. Malice sighed at this and then felt a touch she didn't expect on her shoulder. She was wearing only a thin shift, and the warmth of his hand was easy to feel through the fabric. She shivered, despite the warmth, and tried to quickly regain her senses.
With a glint of wit appearing in her eyes, now that she was less tired, Malice answered, "I'm glad to hear it. For once, you actually had to listen to me." She smiled gently and sat up, now realizing how cold it seemed to be in this room without the blanket over her. She looked over at Darcy for what was probably too long, and did not care if he caught her staring. She was only thinking; she still did not understand why she had felt so inclined to stay with him, despite all the danger that she knew she'd been put in. Something was there. Something was making her stay, and she didn't know if what she was about to ask would change that.
"Darsidian, tell me who you are. I've told you all I can of myself, and... I just want to know who I belong to now." She tried to smile at him, to somehow take away from the seriousness of what she'd just asked. And she was, too, suddenly compelled to move over to where he was and sit at his side, where she laid a tired head on his shoulder.
If this was something temporary, and she would one day be led away from Darsidian, Malice wanted to remember everything about him. She would not dare speak of her feelings toward him, for not even she understood what they were, and it was clear that Darcy was not one for being open with his heart. Malice still felt somewhat weak from all the things that her mind and heart had gone through in the past two days, softening and melting in the hands of a beast.
 STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Nov 23, 2012 21:08:31 GMT -6
Darsidian didn’t miss the sigh when he replied to her. He supposed that it must be frustrating for her to deal with him as he was being. He hated being exposed and vulnerable, just as he supposed she must. It was why he had gotten so good at hedging answers the way he did. He also didn’t miss the slight shiver as he touched her. He removed his hand promptly, not sure quite why she was shivering. Was he doing all the wrong things? His brow furrowed.
“Had to listen to you? My dear, I let you win. It wasn’t worth the energy to fight you,” he said, though he knew that she would have gotten him into the bed whether he wanted to or not. It was just better to surrender and prevent further damage. He was sure the damage to his pride was not irreparable. He cocked his head as she stared at him and his brow furrowed even more. Why did she stare so? She had seen him naked that first day, and he was certain that the scars that were faded into his skin were not utterly atrocious. She hadn’t mentioned them before. But perhaps now she was getting a better look at them and rethinking her decision to stay with him.
Her question caught him a bit off guard. He turned his gaze away from her as he pondered the answer to that question. Who he was now was a reinvention of the little boy he had been. The one that was forced to grow up too fast, who had known death too young, and who needed, more than anyone, someone to tell him that it was all going to be ok and that he didn’t have to worry about hurting everyone. But he knew that wasn’t the truth. He had to constantly be on guard. And she wouldn’t care about the little boy. She cared about the man.
To his credit, distracted by his thoughts as he was, he managed not to flinch as she laid her head on his shoulder. Actually, he didn’t move at all really, his body frozen in thought, like some kind of odd statue. After several more minutes, he exhaled heavily. “Don’t ask me that, Malice. You won’t like the answer.” He moved the arm she wasn’t leaning against to pull at a stray thread on his pants. “I am Darsidian, the scrivener. A beast, inside and out, and nothing more.” He couldn’t reopen the wounds that he had never allowed to heal. He couldn’t think of his family, lest he lose all composure. But try as he might, the pain at even thinking about sharing the memory was visible for a brief moment in his eyes. He shook his head and took a moment to regain composure before he turned to look at Malice, a smile on his face.
“I’m starving. I could eat a wolf,” he said. “How about you?” He was hoping the misdirection would force her to drop the question, though he knew this was the beginning of an uphill battle for him. He wondered to himself, though, why she cared about who he was when no one before had even spared him a second glance outside of business.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 24, 2012 15:03:27 GMT -6
Malice was not opposed to Darsidian's touch. Actually, she was surprised to find she liked it, and that was part of the reason she flinched. She looked up at him, the ghost of a serious expression still in her eyes. "You always must win, Darcy," she said, not complaining but stating a fact that was elusive to her. She was so used to controlling everything in her life that to have to deal with someone else just as headstrong was frustrating. But she picked up her smile and shrugged. "Sometimes I'm not sure why I put up with you." She grinned a little more playfully.
Her staring at him was but a reminder. Malice saw his scars and that they were much like her own, and though she wanted it to mean that they were two from the same kind, she wasn't certain. They had both known pain, that was all she could say absolutely. And in a way, she wanted him to know that her scars were more atrocious than his, that they came from the hatred of others. She wanted them to attest to Darsidian that Malice was not the innocent, unhurt weakling he sometimes seemed to think. She was just as strong as he was, but quiet.
His response was not as she'd wanted, but again he did not seem to understand. At first, all she said was, "Right," a bitter grace pursed upon her lips. But the more she thought, the more she wanted to win this time. She was tired of a life spent to the side of all the things she did not control, at the center of nothing but her own thoughts. She needed to hold the upper hand to learn about Darsidian--and she had little to hold against him for him to reveal who he was, plus she would rather have it out honestly. He was pained, and she knew what internal turmoil could do to someone, even someone with a secret as worthless as her own. She thought she could see, if but briefly, that he was hurting and it was all she could do to get it out of him. She had to do it.
She lifted her head from where it lay and shifted her body to be more in front of him. Malice met his face with her own, taking his in her hands. So close that she could have been plagued by memory, Malice brought her lips to his and kissed him more than she had ever done before. She wanted it to hurt him.
Her face still close, Malice whispered, harshly at times but generally with more sympathy than anything. "Now whenever you think of me, you'll think of that, and you'll remember what you wouldn't say. And anytime you see me you'll be haunted by your memory--oh, I know. Now, Darsidian, I'm going to offer you a choice." She gave him a minute to ponder without knowing his options, or maybe it was just time for her to keep her tears away from her eyes. "Either I leave and I go to Scotland to face my father--never to come back here, or I stay and we talk over breakfast." She meant it seriously, and she meant her threat.
She was afraid, though. If Darcy didn't care as much about her as she'd expected, she was once more on her own, out there left to the mercy of mankind, her thoughts, and perhaps even the beast, should her leaving cause him ire. But in spite of her absolute fear, Malice heaved a smile. "Well?"
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Nov 25, 2012 0:32:11 GMT -6
He allowed himself a smile as she called him out on his need to be in control. “I’m not entirely sure why you put up with me either,” he said. He knew she would be safer if she left him, but he was growing attached to the idea of company. He was so sick of being alone that he wanted her to stay almost as much as he thought she needed to leave. But he couldn’t reconcile the two thoughts I his mind.
He was unsure of what to think when she responded to him with a simple “right” and he hoped that it would be the end of the conversation. Clearly Darsidian had underestimated the power of a woman who wanted something. He had had such little experience with them that when she moved to be more face to face. He turned to face her more and she pulled his face into her hands, kissing him. He could feel electricity moving through his body, the kiss obviously with feeling behind it.
She pulled away and Darsidian felt a little breathless, opening his eyes to meet hers. The look in them was confusing, and for a moment Darsidian looked as though the rug had been pulled out from in under him. Her words cut through him like knives as she offered him an ultimatum. He could feel the beast within him rise, clearly angered by the threat she made against him. She threatened to leave him to live on alone until the next person who cared enough to chat came along. His eyes flashed gold for several moments and he let there be a silence as he chose his next words carefully. Darsidian knew that to speak when angry would lead to making the best speech he would ever regret. But even he could not do away with all of the anger.
“Gods be damned, Malice, make up your mind. You were the one that said you wanted to stay in the first place,” he said, wrapping one of his hands around one of her wrists that still held his face. “I tried to convince you to leave and now that you’ve decided you’re going to stay here with me, you use it as a threat to get the information that you want?” Darsidian, had the tactic not been used against him, might have congratulated her on such an effective use of the tactic. He had used it himself on several other occasions, but he was not used to being on the receiving end of it.
“Stay or go as you please, Malice. I see no shackles on you. I’m not holding you here against your will, nor will I. But know this Malice…” he said, his eyes a deep gold that so resembled the beast, he feared that the beast may appear in the day for the first time. “When you delve too deep into the darkness, something will bite back.” He moved his free hand to her lips and put a finger on them. “You get to give me a choice, and I’ll offer you one in return.” And his choice would be just as heartless as hers was. He stared unblinkingly at her, like a predator on the hunt.
“Leave if you want to. Go to Scotland and face your father. Go to an uncertain future where you do not even know if you will be accepted into your clan and never return. If that is your choice so be it and far be it from me to stop you. However, if you stay, we will talk over breakfast. I’ll tell you what I can within reason. But if you do stay and you ask your questions, you cannot leave. If you choose to leave after that, there will be no place that is safe from the beast’s hunting ability.” The beast would hunt her down to the ends of the earth to assure himself that Malice would take their secrets to the grave, even if he was the one that sent her there.
“Now the choice is yours.”
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 25, 2012 12:46:27 GMT -6
Darsidian's smile wasn't lost on her, but Malice chose not to reply. She knew how stubborn she was, how desiring of control; he was surely not much different. And she did not, absolutely, like being told that she was wrong. That pride that she had lost part of yesterday was rebuilding now, and while she was still so vulnerable, she'd rather let him think otherwise. After a lifetime of misplaced sentiments, Malice had hardened.
The look in Darcy's eyes was enough to convince Malice that she had to speak, and she wondered afterwards if her words had been too strong or too assuming. Like everything in her life, she may have ruined something when she finally had the chance to be a normal, safe woman. Fear struck a chord in her heart as she watched him, her face unfeeling nonetheless. She wouldn't let him see what was going on behind her own dark blue eyes, no matter what it might be. She had yet to let him know at all how she felt personally toward him, and now if she was afraid it was nothing he should see either.
She tried to keep her breaths even as Darsidian grabbed her wrist. Uncomfotable as it was-and she could tell it would bruise-she kept a straight face and continued to listen to him, hoping that sometime he would release her and let her answer. She wanted to tell him everything that she was thinking, but that was unwise and Malice knew it. She had reasons for wanting to know. Reasons that weren't all for selfish purposes. But Darcy would not understand that.
Finally, he was done, and Malice blinked away the beginnings of a tear. Now she could say what she wanted, if she didn't first choke on her tears and break down. She could not do that though. She had to be strong, because she was adament about the choice she'd offered. "I thought you..." She started, and realized too late that it wasn't her mind speaking. Shaking her head, she began again. "But do you think that I have else to go, where I will be relatively safe? Where someone will care at least that I am a human being? I have naught. I've read you wrong; For that I am sorry."
She took a breath and knew that nothing she was telling him was making much sense. Malice had to press on and explain herself. "I hate when you do this, but I will play your game in your house. I was, a minute ago, intent on leaving you but I believe that feeling has been but fleeting. I cannot leave. I cannot because I know that if I go somewhere besides here, I will be the person I hate again, and I will hang myself for all the wrong I've done and all the people that have made their permanent marks on me. No highlander would take a thief. So I will stay, and I will ask you what I choose, because I know-and it's apparent that you think so also-that I won't live elsewhere anyhow. I don't intend on leaving." Malice was nearly done, and she thought of one more thing just before her eyes were about to spill over. "And Darcy, don't think I cannot handle whatever you're hiding. You may think my pains are inferior to yours, but the scars across my body are worse."
She stopped because she had to, hoping to high heavens that he would let go her wrist. But she wasn't going to cry now, and she wasn't going to go seeking his comfort.
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Nov 25, 2012 13:21:20 GMT -6
Darsidian watched her face as he grabbed her wrist and in the back of his mind he gave her credit. Darsidian knew that he was not being gentle, yet she showed no signs of fear or of nervousness. In fact she seemed to feel nothing at all. Darsidian wasn’t sure if that was because she had resigned herself to her fate, because she was hiding her feelings from him, or because perhaps she didn’t truly care about him.
Darsidian let out a small snort of disbelief. “Malice, you have spent two days and nights in the company of a beast and you stand here unscathed.” Here he loosened his grip on her wrist slightly, his voice soft and with very little trace of the anger that had been in his voice. “It is my belief that there is nowhere in the world that you could go that you wouldn’t be safe. You can take care of yourself, Malice. You don’t need anyone to protect you. As for caring that you are a human…there are always those that will look down upon you for your station in life, just as there are those who would look down on me for mine. But it shouldn’t matter if there is someone who you care about. It only matters what they think.” And Darsidian did care what Malice thought of him. It was why he was trying so hard to stop her from finding out what he had done.
Darsidian did his best to hold back a wince when she said she read him wrong. All that projected was a slight narrowing of the eyes when she said it. While it had been a large part of his plan to convince her that he was no fit company, even for a highwayman, he had not intended to hurt her. “Perhaps we both have read the other wrong,” he said, letting go of her wrist. Darsidian got up from the bed and moved to get a tunic. He listened to her as she made her explanations, and fastened his tunic with his back to her. He frowned as she explained. Was he merely a means to an end for her? No, he couldn’t believe that Malice would use him like that. He couldn’t believe that every person he came across would be willing to use him if they knew his secrets, and she did know his biggest secret, his double life.
Darsidian heaved a sigh and turned to look at Malice, sitting down on the trunk that held his clothes and watching her from across the room, his arms folded across his chest. The gold in his eyes was all but gone, with just a shimmer of it here and there for fleeting moments. “Malice, do you honestly think I’m keeping my secrets from you because I think that /you/ can’t handle them?” he asked, emphasizing the you. Darsidian knew that after what she had seen, his secrets would be on par with hers. He knew that he wasn’t ready to face the horrid truths about himself that he had so deeply hidden. And Malice didn’t seem to understand that. But he hoped she realized that his statement was as close to opening up as he had gotten since he was a child.
He played with the bandage covering the little bit of his wrist that poked out at the end of his sleeve. He’d have to change them soon. The cloths had been stained red, but he doubted very much that he was still bleeding. And for a brief moment, he thought about the night previous. Malice had helped him despite what he assumed to be an aversion to blood. She had done so without a thought and not knowing if he was man or beast in the early hours of the morning. She deserved a little piece of his soul bared. Not the most intimate secrets, but one that he could force himself to tell her. He took a preparatory breath and let it out heavily. “I’m not keeping these secrets because I think you can’t handle it, Mal. It’s because I actually care what you think of me. And I know you will think me a monster. Though after my behavior today, I can’t say I’d blame you.”
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 25, 2012 14:01:32 GMT -6
Malice could not deny that there were moments when she hated him for his guts. She knew, of course, that he had every right to be the way he was and it had been she that had interrupted his life, had chosen to change the way they both lived. But she still hated to feel so much toward him only to know that he would always get his way.
She wanted to take a deep breath when the hand on her wrist was somewhat loosed, but Malice could not find it in her to admit any kind of defeat. Her first response was snappy. "And you tell me this now, after you've proven to me that I am a worthless bit of a killer? Don't forget what you said before." But she bit her tongue and wondered if she shouldn't be so harsh. It was the way she knew to live. It was how she had fared with Rousch, as bad of a boy as he had been to her. It was how she dealt with how much she hated herself. She softened a little, hoping he could not see her eyes, and muttered, "Yes, and what if that person thinks that you're... a self-centered, useless ward."
Malice hadn't meant to sulk, really, and it made her chest ache to see him leave her, but she kept her eyes straight ahead and held back the reservoir behind them. "No," she said. She was tired of trying to win with him and decided she would rather admit submission than fight. "No, I think you read me right. Part of me, at least. I have been too concerned with myself to read you." And that was all she had to say. Unable to see Darsidian's face, Malice began to feel slightly alone, colder than usual, and she could feel a real physical pain in her wrist. She rubbed it gently, ignoring the memory-triggered sting of a scar on her back, and looked down. Silence was not her friend right now but it was certainly at her side.
But oh, when Darsidian turned around and watched her, his gaze felt like iron. It almost hurt. But even for his steely appearance, his words seemed to pain her, or at least to cut through to somewhere inside. She had not thought of it that way. Her own desires always came first in her life and she was not used to thinking about what someone else might want. Even now, she wouldn't admit it. For a second she thought to apologize but could not bring the words to her lips. "Oh," was all that came out. If she stayed, as she planned to and could not think that she would not, maybe one day she would get to know, just like one day maybe he would get to see the abuse she bore marks of--that, she hadn't even told him about. If that was the game, she might lose, but she would play.
And though she swore she was not going to let him see how she felt, Malice could not keep several tears from falling when he admitted more than she'd ever thought he would admit to her. He was not one to wear any bit of emotion on his sleeve, and sentiments were not what she'd expected from him. Or were they? Wasn't this what she'd wanted to hear from him? Assurance?
There were no words she could find to answer that. She looked at him for a long while and said simply, "Come back over here." She didn't like feeling alone, even with him across the room, and if he was reading her eyes he knew that she would forgive him forever. There was a part of her heart, though she did not know how big, that cared deeply for him as well.
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Nov 27, 2012 11:26:19 GMT -6
Darsidian frowned as she called him out on what he had said to her in their previous conversations. This was why he preferred to have conversations when he was in possession of all of his faculties. It was so much easier to control a conversation and direct it the way he wanted to when he wasn’t still reeling from blood loss. “Is that all you’ve gotten out of our conversations? I’ve proven you killed but never once did I call you worthless.” He took a deep breath as she asked him the “what if.” Darsidian frowned. “I didn’t say anything to that effect, Malice.” But then it hit him. She wasn’t talking about him anymore and his whole face softened in confusion. He had just assumed that this was about what was going on in the here and now. But it wasn’t, not to her. Darsidian had been alone so long he had forgotten what it was like to have others that you cared about or that cared about you. There were times he forgot that not everybody lived like he did.
Darsidian said nothing as she said that she had been too busy to read him. Perhaps that was true, but it wasn’t as though he was making it easy for her to read him. He supposed they were both at fault. He wasn’t used to being pressed and she was used to getting what she wanted. They were an unlikely pair to say the least. Pehaps it was just the newness of their companionship that made these conversations so difficult. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the few things she wanted to know, other than the fact that it was how he treated every other person. She didn’t have to know that he killed his own family, merely that they had been killed. He was so good at bending the truth that it was second nature, but Malice was smarter than she appeared. And she could follow the bends he made in the truth, he was certain. So he would wait. He couldn’t tell her, not just yet.
Darsidian sighed and moved over to her as she sat on the bed as she asked him to. He gently put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. He used a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheeks and looked at her, his eyes still as shielded as ever, but there was also no anger or cruelty in his eyes. With a sigh as he started to feel a bit dizzy, he dropped slowly to a crouch in front of her, now more on her level. He spoke softly. “Malice, I may come across as callous and unfeeling, and I only wish that were true. I live with regrets that will haunt me for the rest of my life. You are a better person than I for being able to display your emotions so easily.” He used a bit of his energy to raise himself so he could kiss her forehead. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 27, 2012 21:58:31 GMT -6
Malice dipped her head and clasped her hands together, feeling the sweat between her palms as it grew more and more moist. She sighed and answered pitifully, her resolve weakened and her desire to argue perished. "I didn't say that you called me that, Darsidian... I just mean... Okay. I'm sorry." She was sick of them arguing, and she knew that Darsidian had seen her at her weakest already. As much as she was clutching her pride, she didn't have enough left to boast it. She needed to stop trying and just let life go as it would; she was no one to try and stop it.
Looking up to make sure he was not spending all his time with his eyes locked on her, Malice bit her lip. After a moment she thought that perhaps it would be a good idea to explain what she meant, because she could tell through Darcy's temper that he misunderstood her. "I speak of my only blood brother, Darcy, not of you," she said very softly, trying not to exude more dispair. She already looked helpless enough, she was certain, and her pride--what was left of it--told her to stay guarded. Her hands wringing, Malice tried hard not to show that she wanted to cry.
But there was something that was changing in the way Malice was living. She was learning how to cope with situations she was not in control of. And more than anything, she was beginning to figure out that she would not always get her way, when Darsidian was used to having his. If she wanted to stay, and earn the right to live with him, she had to learn how to compromise. It was his house, his rules. And she wanted, more than anything, to stay.
She was more than happy that he came to her when she asked, and felt the slightest bit relieved. He was not angry with her, it seemed. She watched with wide but tired eyes as he neared and conjured a smile when he was in front of her. She shook her head. "I am certainly not. But I will ask you no more lest you choose to tell me." Something in the way his lips pressed to her forehead sent a strange sensation through her stomach and Malice did not know what to think. "I know." But she gathered herself, the grin on her face the only evidence, and then frowned. "Are you alright, Darcy?" He looked somewhat ill, somewhat weak.
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Nov 28, 2012 7:19:29 GMT -6
Darsidian nodded as she apologized. He wanted the truth to be very plain. He knew how easily words could turn into a web that could ensnare someone, and Darsidian prided himself on not allowing himself to get tripped up in them. He liked to think of himself as a spider in the web of words, knowing how to use both his own words and others’ words to his advantage. He never wanted it said that he had called her a worthless killer, though, not because he wanted to trip her up, but because she could just as easily turn that back on him if…when she found out the truth about his family.
Darsidian’s face flamed for a moment, and he idly thought that it was a good thing that he had some blood to spare now since it was all rushing to his face. Darsidian hated being caught with his pants down like that. He had made assumptions and, in his arrogance, had done exactly what she had done by assuming that he was protecting her by keeping his secrets. The feeling was not one that he enjoyed and he cleared his throat, looking appropriately sheepish. “Forgive my presumption, Malice. I…had no idea.” This time, he couldn’t hold back a grimace and he hoped that Malice wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t the apology that made Darsidian want to gag. It was forcing himself to admit out loud that he had been ignorant.
He offered a tired smile when she said that she would leave his past in the past for now. The unease that had been brewing in his mind for the length of the conversation began to settle, and no longer did he feel the beast within him becoming restless. He pushed the hair away from her shoulder. “Thank you, Malice. Someday I will tell you.” He allowed her that much, since she had been so willing to back down when he protected it with everything he had. And someday was vague enough that he didn’t feel trapped by the promise. He moved one of his hands to the ground as a dizzy spell hit him, stabilizing himself with the hand and nodding to Malice.
“Just hungry, I think,” he said. Admit one truth instead of the other. He hated to admit his vulnerability when he was dizzy like this. Besides, it didn’t matter if he was ready to be on his feet or not. He had business to take care of and it wasn’t going to wait on his health. “Shall we to breakfast then?” he asked, using the bed on either side of Malice to push himself to his feet.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Nov 28, 2012 20:54:40 GMT -6
In her nervous reluctance, Malice was getting hot and her mind was meandering quickly from one memory to the next. Some were good; most were undesirable. She did not like to think of anyone from her gypsy band anymore, because she knew that she had broken a promise to them and that they would hate her for it now. So even as much as she'd adored some of them--Rousch included, as cruel as he was--Malice had left and she had vowed not to go back because that would only buy her grief and loneliness. She thought more. Of the night that changed her. And then of the man that she thought might be able to change her back.
Because Darsidian looked uncomfotable, irritated, Malice did too. She was a sharer of external emotion, and the more he looked as he did the more uncomfortable she became also. He looked unnormally timid, embarassed, and Malice caught it. She'd be gentle... She could not bring herself to challenge him any longer. "You did not know. I will tell you sometime how bad he was, but I fear you might find it... bloody." She managed a pitiful smile that looked more pained than convincing, nodding toward his arm.
She shook her head. "I will not ask then. I will leave that judgment to you," she said; for we have established that I do belong to you, she added mentally. She had to remember that, and then perhaps Malice would be less inclined to want everything her own way. If she could just ingrain in her mind that not everything belonged to her and not everything would fall at her feet, maybe she could be a better person. She liked, so much, the feel of his hand near her neck, and was fairly certain if he didn't keep his hands from her she might end up speaking her mind.
Malice did not notice she was holding her breath until he managed to stand. She joined him, pulling one of his arms around her waist so that maybe he'd have something to hold on to, just a little. "Let's," she said smiling, looking hopefully at him. But she was still worried. He looked less than in good health, and though she knew he would be okay--he had to be--she was on edge.
They started to the stairs again. Hopefully down would be easier than up. "Are you fine, my l--Darcy?"
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Dec 14, 2012 13:53:45 GMT -6
Darsidian watched as she took on the discomfort that he felt himself. He wasn’t sure why she was uncomfortable, but he let out another deep breath. He gave her a half-smile. “Trust me. Bloody doesn’t faze me anymore,” he said, a flicker of sadness and regret in his eyes briefly before it disappeared. After all of his nights as the beast, running in the wild and often seeking prey, both human and animal, he had seen his share of blood. He refused to think of his family.
“I am sorry you were hurt, though,” he said. He meant the words, which was strange to him. He usually couldn’t care less what happened to others. But he supposed that after she helped him fix his injury, it was well justified for him to care if she were injured. That was what he told himself to try to block out the idea that he may actually care about someone since his family. He never wanted to see anyone else he cared for bleeding and broken, and that was why he kept everyone at arm’s length.
Darsidian offered a sort of smile and brought his hand to her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he said softly. So much of him was still that scared little boy that wanted nothing more than to run away from the problems instead of facing what he’d done. But he was, for most intents and purposes, a man of his word. He would tell her when the time was right. Though he was certain that she would find out much sooner than he intended.
Darsidian did not protest when she pulled an arm around her waist. He knew what she was doing and thanked her in his heart for not making him say that he was weak. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze, and she helped him over to the stairs. At least this time when he moved he wasn’t staggering like a drunkard. It was more that the effort was taking a lot of energy from him. He didn’t complain, however, as he got to the stairs. Maybe that was because he had spent so long alone that he realized that complaining would get him nothing.
He shook his head. “Do not worry, Malice. I’ve survived worse than this. And I am most certainly not a lord, yours or anyones,” he said, catching the slip of the tongue as she asked him the question. He allowed himself to be moved to the head of the stairs and began to descend. Down was certainly much easier than going up, what with gravity working with him and not against him. His arm ached something horrible but things were much better than they were last night all in all.
When they got to the bottom of the stairs, he smiled. “See? I’ll be fine.” He realized that wasn’t what he meant to say the moment the words left his mouth. He had meant to tell her he was fine, not that he would be. He shook his head and stepped away from her, moving to right the bench that had been overturned during the course of the night. “What do you eat for breakfast?” he asked, trying to distract her from his comment.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Dec 20, 2012 20:36:10 GMT -6
Malice smiled gently up at him, her eyes shielding the pain that she was tormented by whenever she thought of Rousch. On one hand, she had to love her brother, and he was but a year and a half younger than she. But on the other hand, she hated how he treated her and how he always seemed to hurt her. She chose her words with care. "I will tell you-no, I will show you sometime. Perhaps you'll learn something of my brother." She nearly shuddered and a shooting pain went up the scar on her back, reminding her even though it was of no use.
I am no more," she reminded him. She never had to see Rousch again, and her scars would remain but their pain would leave.
Always, whenever Darsidian was so close, she wanted to touch him. To stroke his face, to kiss him. And this she found fascinating, because she had never before had this desire. That was what had set her so far apart in her gypsy society; she dared never touch a man or let one touch her. Her innocence may have been lost but her mind disallowed that knowledge. For all she wished to be, though, Malice was no more pure. "I want to do everything for you," she whispered, her heart overpowering her prideful mind. She was stripped when she was in front of him. And she was done arguing, because she wanted something that she had not felt in a long time-love. Tender care. Attention.
Malice was extremely careful as she helped him down the stairs, noting that he was still not much stronger than he had been before, no matter what facade he wore or what his pride said. But she understood. Her pride was the same. From this standpoint, they were from the same mold. Malice kept her head down and concentrated on every step. She would not let Darcy down.
"I believe you," she said. "But I do worry. Especially since I do not yet know your routine. We are but strangers," she smiled at him, and placed a hand on his heart when they reached the bottom of the stairs and turning to face him. "That isn't what I was going to say," her smile slipped to one side. "My love." She felt strange speaking words that were not filled with hate or distrust. But, she guessed, it had to feel foreign before it could feel right. At least she had opened up to Darsidian; she had someone now that would help her along the road.
"I know," she told him confidently. She looked around for a moment and wondered the same thing herself. Rarely did she eat more than two times per day, and she always had to find her own meals before. Vegetation, usually, but sometimes she got up the courage to shoot down a bird or a rabbit. She looked back at Darsidian and shook her head. "Do you have any bread?"
STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 710 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
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Post by Darsidian on Dec 20, 2012 21:50:54 GMT -6
Darsidian watched her as she spoke of her brother, and for once was confused by the expression on her face. Usually people were like books to him. All he had to do was look at them and the things they were thinking were written all over their faces. Rarely did he meet someone so well versed in secrets that he had trouble, and Malice was proving to be one of those people that he would have to work at in order to understand her better. He put his hands on her cheeks and touched her forehead with his. “Then you will show me when you are ready to,” he said. Much as he wanted to demand answers of her, he knew that it would be poor form. Malice had allowed him his privacy concerning his family and past, even if it had taken him fighting tooth and nail for it. He needed her to trust him. Trust was how he was able to manipulate everything around him, whether it was by keeping the trust or breaking it. But before Darsidian could do anything with her trust, he had to earn it first.
Darsidian chuckled softly. “No. It’s me who’s got the fresh injuries today,” he said. His arm ached but at least the herbs he had applied last night had helped to take the edge off his pain. He cocked his head as she told him that she wanted to do everything for him, taken aback slightly by the statement. Perhaps he had already earned her trust. She never failed to throw him off balance just when he had gotten his footing on where he stood with her. And it was something he was beginning to accustom himself to. It happened so rarely and, though it annoyed him to have to find another path, he found it at the same time refreshing.
Darsidian looked down at Malice as she helped him to the stairs and down them. He was confused by her open admiration of him. She wanted to be close, though he knew she feared the touch of a man. Oh she may not call it that, but she herself had made it painfully clear that it was a man that had hurt her. And Darsidian was a man, whether he believed himself to be a beast or not. She took so much care helping him down the stairs. She was genuinely worried for him. Not just because he was a means to an end, but she actually did care about him.
He shook his head. “Yes, of course. Forgive me. You treat me with such…intimacy may not be the right word, but...perhaps with such care and tenderness that it just feels as though we are better acquainted than we are.” He paused as she turned to him, laying a hand on his heart. She smiled up at him and his eyes became considerably more shielded when she admitted what she had been about to say. Love? His heart began to race and his breathing slowed to compensate for the brief flash of panic that entered his system at the thought. He looked at her and she could see the sincerity in her eyes and he let out a long breath. He tried to cover his momentary lapse of composure with a smile.
“It’s been a long time since someone’s said that to me,” he said. The last person who had said that to him had indeed been his mother. He remembered that through the fevered haze that were his last memories before the beast. He turned to the bench that needed to be righted and frowned. His injuries had bled pretty badly. There were dark patches on the floor where the blood he had been unable to stem had settled. He could smell the metallic scent of it even if he hadn’t been staring at it and he found himself being brought back to that day where he had awakened and found everything he had loved taken from him.
He turned to look at her as she spoke again. “Huh?” he asked, caught off guard by the question simply because he had been too absorbed in his own thoughts. Thinking back on her question, he nodded and motioned to the area near a large cooking fireplace. “I think I have half a loaf somewhere in there. I haven’t had the time to make more. I’ll make another loaf this evening.” It was one more thing on his list of chores for the day. The fact that his arm still pained him couldn’t stop him from taking care of everything that needed to be done. He would not ask Malice to help him. It was his home and he didn’t want her to think that he couldn’t take care of his own home.
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