( From the beginning, there had always been something between them. Not some magnetic draw that made him long for her touch or the feel of her skin under his hands or whatever dollar store romance nonsense people bought into these days. Instead, it was thread of hostility, one built from sharp words, terrifying vivid dreams he could never find it in himself to forget, and a constant feeling that something was missing.
Still, spending day in and day out with a beautiful woman had been enough to dull some of the animosity Seth felt towards Kisa, even if it never took away the feeling that something was wrong. The facility they lived in, the men in their pristine white coats, plastic badges, and over-hyped medical degrees always dismissed that concern when he mentioned. The same way they dismissed when he asked why he'd been made with a tattoo along his arm or scars in various places. All they said, all they ever said was the same thing.
You and Kisa were made for each other.
That didn't mean they acted like it, though. No, in the suite they shared, the two of them kept a safe distance from one another more often than not. As the months trickled past, they'd started moving past barriers they'd put up in the beginning. They talked casually here and there, had never had an issue with nudity, recently started sleeping in the same bed, and when it came to the more emotional aspects of their relationship, they'd managed to get to the point where one of them would wake up in the middle of the night and the other would do the same. Offer some bit of concern or attempt to ease the other back to sleep. It was "progress".
After a long day of talking about that progress with one of those lab coat wearing lunatics, Seth was stretched out on his back across the bed. His legs dangled over the edge, one bare foot tapping the soft carpet as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. They'd asked a lot of questions, mostly about Kisa, about how they were progressing. And his answer was always the same. They were working on it. They'd probably always be working on it. )
They asked why we haven't started banging like rabbits yet. Again. ( Seth announced at the sound of Kisa moving elsewhere in the room, not bothering to sit up from where he was laid out.
It was a valid question, he knew. One he'd asked himself more than a few times, especially in the moments when he caught sight of her bare skin, felt the weight of the mattress dip beside him when they settled in for the night. Hell, most mornings he woke up with a raging hard on pointed right in her direction, and it took everything he had not to ask if she was interested. Most days, her usual demeanor said she wasn't. And honestly, Seth wasn't sure he could take that kind of rejection when they spent this much time together. )
They ask you any new and exciting questions or is it about time we came up with some excuse to satisfy inquiring minds? ( Finally, his head popped up from the mattress just enough to slide one arm behind it as the other one dropped across his abdomen lazily, plucking at the fabric of his tanktop. )
[ they never used to discuss what they talked about in the meetings with their handlers. they hadn't been instructed not to, but there hadn't been that level of trust at first. it had taken a while to develop, and they've come miles from where they were at first. but that doesn't change that things don't feel right.
it's not anything to do with him, not really. he's in the same position she is, and it's uncomfortable for them both. nothing about their situation or what they've been told feels right or true. why was he made with scars when she doesn't bear any? why are their dietary needs so different that they need to eat at separate times? why can she hear and sense things he can't?
his question comes about an hour after they've both returned from their respective meetings. they asked her the same thing; they always ask her the same thing. you've had time to get to know each other, they always point out, you should be at that level of comfort by now.
and it isn't that she doesn't want to, not really. seth is a very attractive man, and she trusts him as much as their situation allows. and she knows it's been on his mind, too. ( she showers first, in the mornings, and pretends she doesn't notice his problem while she goes to take care of her own. ) it's that they keep bringing it up that bothers her. it's something that they want them to do.
and that's the thing that feels the most wrong about this, even more unnerving than the dreams that plague them and interrupt their sleep. ( he's been in a few of hers, along with another taller, bespectacled man that she feels like she should know but doesn't. ) this is something that they want.
why? ]
No, they asked the same questions and gave the same lectures. [ she comes in from the bathroom, having just washed her face and wrists - the equipment they use to detect lies in their speech smells strongly and unpleasantly of rubber and plastic. she stands by the bed for a moment, watching him as he ( slightly ) adjusts his position on the bed. ]
Probably. And they'll probably be just as satisfied with this one as the last few.
[ they're the best at what they do, but that doesn't mean that plans can't still go wrong. in fact, in their case, they do more often than not. often enough that both have become pretty adept at coming up with a plan b on the fly, but it's never something they enjoy having to do, just something both have become good at.
they've gone wrong pretty spectacularly this time, in a way that involves a shapeshifting culebra tricking them into giving him a ride to where they were going, on their way back to richard and kate and the other culebras. which should have been an immediate tip-off, but work hadn't been on either of their minds. suave, cómodo, she thinks to herself in the shower as she's washing off his blood. estúpido. because as it turned out, he'd been someone sent to kill her, assuming the form of one of her followers in order to fool them and get close.
seth hadn't trusted it, had wanted to leave him to find another way to fix whatever bullshit excuse he'd given them for needing to travel with them. but she's been so determined to be a better ruler than the nine lords had been; more compassionate and helpful. it won't make up for the people she's let down over the centuries, but maybe it'll do enough to keep her from failing completely.
she's angry, pessimistic. she realizes this, that it's why she's spiraling into these darker, negative thoughts. it doesn't stop her from thinking them.
she shuts the water off as the temperature starts to cool, not wanting to risk any more weakness. the fight's taken a lot out of them both; she can still see the bruises and scrapes she sustained from the fight and eventual slaughter underneath the towel she's pulled around herself. she debates dressing immediately so seth won't see them ( she'll heal, but she's not sure he can spare the blood ), but hiding them will just make him angrier. besides, she needs to get clean ones first.
she comes out of the bathroom to find seth sitting on the bed, not looking much better than she feels. she watches him as he reassembles his gun, checking the various parts for damage as he cleans them, and waits until it's back together before she comes to sit beside him. ]
You were right.
Edited (icon switch) 2017-05-07 19:01 (UTC)
flattery will get you everywhere tbh but it's v mutual
[ heated anger begins to dissipate from his voice before the last word; she's ancient, sure, but all of this being out in the world is uncharted territory. didn't have the same kind of instincts that came from dealing with the day to day bullshit. not that he's the shining example of mental health. case in point: the ritual he's going through with the gun, shoving the mag back into place. could still hear his prick of a father's voice ringing loud and clear. 'again, faster.' pistol now set to the side, the full brunt of his attention turns to kisa. ]
Wanna know what rule numero uno is? If someone sees the opportunity to dick you over, consider it a done deal. [ the kind of advice she doesn't really need in all honestly. how many snake skinned pieces of garbage had tried to take advantage over the centuries? probably a question neither of them should bother debating. an ache thuds dully in his lower back; she took most of the damage, they'd learned to watch out for each other, and while he's pretty far from a liability, he isn't exactly bulletproof either. something about his expression softens; her cheek, discolored by bruising, lower down, an angry red mark following kisa's clavicle.
a towel being the only thing covering her is usually enough to send his blood racing; still did, to a certain degree, but having something else to focus on dampens that reaction. for now. the black leather gloves come off and he reaches out, tucking the damp strands of her hair behind an ear, thumb very lightly tracing the shape of a bruise ] That Thing wannabe packed a punch, huh? [ yes, he knows exactly how showing even the glimmer of vulnerability is a struggle for her ] Except you were the one left standing. Imagine that.
[ silence hangs in the air for a moment; it isn't uncomfortable, they're past that stage, though it hasn't granted them immunity to tension. carefully, the buttons to his vest are undone before the garment is shrugged off altogether ] The real kicker is I don't know whether to be pissed at you or make sure you get healed up.
[ she knows the ritual, can remember the memories and emotions associated with the sudden knowledge she'd gained by drinking his blood the first time. it's why she didn't interrupt it; maybe it's not the healthiest way to deal with things but it's a better method than some of the others he's used in the past. ( she's never going to judge him for it; hers haven't been much better. ) ]
Be pissed. I should have known better.
[ she should have seen something like this coming, after witnessing carlos and richard battling for power, after seeing countless others challenge the lords for it. up until now, things have gone relatively smoothly, or about as smoothly as they could have considering how she had come into her position. there are culebras out there who consider her ruling an affront to their culture and way of life, who think her way of ruling is weak and will lead to their destruction. who remember her as someone who ran, as the companion of the worst of the nine lords. who remember her as nothing more than a myth, than a symbol. she'd run from them and this life before, more than once. she's sure they remember that, too.
maybe they resent her for it.
her eyes slide closed as he reaches out to touch her, head tilting slightly towards his hand. it hurts, but she can deal with that. showing her weakness is worse, even in front of him. ]
Edited (apparently i can't reread anything without thinking of something i want to add) 2017-05-24 00:27 (UTC)
[ any con saying there's such a thing as "easy time" is full of shit. no two ways around it. there are ways of filling up some of the hours— jawing around with other inmates, learning something you didn't before. pumping iron. getting into fights. getting into trouble for getting into the fights. kp. laundry. picking up pebbles and seeing how many you can get through that one particular hole in the chainlink. but every minute of it's still thrummed through with the knowledge that it's killing time, that at the end of the day there's gonna be bars on the window where you're slammed into your cage, and ain't nothing changing that until something happens.
the nights are worst and seth still isn't used to them even now, but he gets prepared. loaded up his imagination with plenty from the outside to think of in the dark. whole conversations coming and going. old job blueprints with richie, old movies with eddie, older conversations with his old man where he gets to say all the shit he never got to before the house burned down. and — cause he's a red blooded american guy in his prime, thank you — he thinks of women. thinks of vanessa and her carrot cakes, of ex-girlfriends, of magazine pin-ups from his misspent youth.
that's where he figures she comes from at first. spanish had never been his favorite flavor, so to speak, but he's seen plenty of fine looking women round the border and she had to have been one of them. smooth skin, dark eyes, smoky voice, built like a dancer— he doesn't know where he knows her from, mind, but he's not about to file a complaint about it. not at first. but soon she's going from appreciative flashes to recurring dreams to being the only voice he hears, and not just at night. he'll catch her out the corner of his eye in the mess, watch her weave between heavies out int he yard, get whispers of spanish in his ear that make him whip his head around trying to find who's fucking with him.
( for all the years spent defending his brother, a creeping and gnawing dread wraps itself around his gut the longer it goes on. is he out to lose his marbles too? is this what going crazy feels like? )
eventually he gets word out to richie with a recently paroled acquaintance: get me the fuck out of here. he doesn't care how dangerous, he doesn't care how big, all that matters is finding a place this spectral senorita won't follow before he totally falls to pieces.
his brother's good as gold and better. barely a month after sending his s.o.s. there's an unexpected court date for seth, needing transport to a county courthouse for some bullshit paperwork or whatnot. richie manages it smooth and easy at a rest stop long the way, all on his goddamn own the little fucker, and seth can't help whoopin' and hollerin' when they peel out down the highway.
hundreds of miles away, they're stopped in some shitty roadside liquor store for snacks and a map and seth pops into the bathroom to splash water on his face. catching his reflection in the mirror, he frowns at the bags under his eyes, the way his suit hangs a little loose, but shakes his head. ]
Screwed on tight.
[ couple nights on the open road will perk him right back up. get him back on his feed. free me, she'd kept saying, over and over— well. thank lord almighty but he was now and especially of her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thread tracking.
word association ( prescription, hunkydory, aluminumandash, crucifixes, parties )
sexting ( hunkydory )
voice test ( forgive, hunkydory )
word association ( hunkydory, forgive, ambassador, cruickshank )
tfln ( underachievement, forgive, hornrim )
fuck, marry, kill ( hunkydory )
drunk ( prescription )
word association ( ladron )
picture prompt ( forgive )
sexting ( hunkydory )
texts from last night ( fiveyearsdark )
word association ( juice_ellen )
road trip ( forgive )
what's your number ( forgive )
midnight texting ( hunkydory )
tbc.
here we go, finally!!
Still, spending day in and day out with a beautiful woman had been enough to dull some of the animosity Seth felt towards Kisa, even if it never took away the feeling that something was wrong. The facility they lived in, the men in their pristine white coats, plastic badges, and over-hyped medical degrees always dismissed that concern when he mentioned. The same way they dismissed when he asked why he'd been made with a tattoo along his arm or scars in various places. All they said, all they ever said was the same thing.
You and Kisa were made for each other.
That didn't mean they acted like it, though. No, in the suite they shared, the two of them kept a safe distance from one another more often than not. As the months trickled past, they'd started moving past barriers they'd put up in the beginning. They talked casually here and there, had never had an issue with nudity, recently started sleeping in the same bed, and when it came to the more emotional aspects of their relationship, they'd managed to get to the point where one of them would wake up in the middle of the night and the other would do the same. Offer some bit of concern or attempt to ease the other back to sleep. It was "progress".
After a long day of talking about that progress with one of those lab coat wearing lunatics, Seth was stretched out on his back across the bed. His legs dangled over the edge, one bare foot tapping the soft carpet as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. They'd asked a lot of questions, mostly about Kisa, about how they were progressing. And his answer was always the same. They were working on it. They'd probably always be working on it. )
They asked why we haven't started banging like rabbits yet. Again. ( Seth announced at the sound of Kisa moving elsewhere in the room, not bothering to sit up from where he was laid out.
It was a valid question, he knew. One he'd asked himself more than a few times, especially in the moments when he caught sight of her bare skin, felt the weight of the mattress dip beside him when they settled in for the night. Hell, most mornings he woke up with a raging hard on pointed right in her direction, and it took everything he had not to ask if she was interested. Most days, her usual demeanor said she wasn't. And honestly, Seth wasn't sure he could take that kind of rejection when they spent this much time together. )
They ask you any new and exciting questions or is it about time we came up with some excuse to satisfy inquiring minds? ( Finally, his head popped up from the mattress just enough to slide one arm behind it as the other one dropped across his abdomen lazily, plucking at the fabric of his tanktop. )
worth the wait!
it's not anything to do with him, not really. he's in the same position she is, and it's uncomfortable for them both. nothing about their situation or what they've been told feels right or true. why was he made with scars when she doesn't bear any? why are their dietary needs so different that they need to eat at separate times? why can she hear and sense things he can't?
his question comes about an hour after they've both returned from their respective meetings. they asked her the same thing; they always ask her the same thing. you've had time to get to know each other, they always point out, you should be at that level of comfort by now.
and it isn't that she doesn't want to, not really. seth is a very attractive man, and she trusts him as much as their situation allows. and she knows it's been on his mind, too. ( she showers first, in the mornings, and pretends she doesn't notice his problem while she goes to take care of her own. ) it's that they keep bringing it up that bothers her. it's something that they want them to do.
and that's the thing that feels the most wrong about this, even more unnerving than the dreams that plague them and interrupt their sleep. ( he's been in a few of hers, along with another taller, bespectacled man that she feels like she should know but doesn't. ) this is something that they want.
why? ]
No, they asked the same questions and gave the same lectures. [ she comes in from the bathroom, having just washed her face and wrists - the equipment they use to detect lies in their speech smells strongly and unpleasantly of rubber and plastic. she stands by the bed for a moment, watching him as he ( slightly ) adjusts his position on the bed. ]
Probably. And they'll probably be just as satisfied with this one as the last few.
surprise
have i ever told you you're my favorite?
they've gone wrong pretty spectacularly this time, in a way that involves a shapeshifting culebra tricking them into giving him a ride to where they were going, on their way back to richard and kate and the other culebras. which should have been an immediate tip-off, but work hadn't been on either of their minds. suave, cómodo, she thinks to herself in the shower as she's washing off his blood. estúpido. because as it turned out, he'd been someone sent to kill her, assuming the form of one of her followers in order to fool them and get close.
seth hadn't trusted it, had wanted to leave him to find another way to fix whatever bullshit excuse he'd given them for needing to travel with them. but she's been so determined to be a better ruler than the nine lords had been; more compassionate and helpful. it won't make up for the people she's let down over the centuries, but maybe it'll do enough to keep her from failing completely.
she's angry, pessimistic. she realizes this, that it's why she's spiraling into these darker, negative thoughts. it doesn't stop her from thinking them.
she shuts the water off as the temperature starts to cool, not wanting to risk any more weakness. the fight's taken a lot out of them both; she can still see the bruises and scrapes she sustained from the fight and eventual slaughter underneath the towel she's pulled around herself. she debates dressing immediately so seth won't see them ( she'll heal, but she's not sure he can spare the blood ), but hiding them will just make him angrier. besides, she needs to get clean ones first.
she comes out of the bathroom to find seth sitting on the bed, not looking much better than she feels. she watches him as he reassembles his gun, checking the various parts for damage as he cleans them, and waits until it's back together before she comes to sit beside him. ]
You were right.
flattery will get you everywhere tbh but it's v mutual
[ heated anger begins to dissipate from his voice before the last word; she's ancient, sure, but all of this being out in the world is uncharted territory. didn't have the same kind of instincts that came from dealing with the day to day bullshit. not that he's the shining example of mental health. case in point: the ritual he's going through with the gun, shoving the mag back into place. could still hear his prick of a father's voice ringing loud and clear. 'again, faster.' pistol now set to the side, the full brunt of his attention turns to kisa. ]
Wanna know what rule numero uno is? If someone sees the opportunity to dick you over, consider it a done deal. [ the kind of advice she doesn't really need in all honestly. how many snake skinned pieces of garbage had tried to take advantage over the centuries? probably a question neither of them should bother debating. an ache thuds dully in his lower back; she took most of the damage, they'd learned to watch out for each other, and while he's pretty far from a liability, he isn't exactly bulletproof either. something about his expression softens; her cheek, discolored by bruising, lower down, an angry red mark following kisa's clavicle.
a towel being the only thing covering her is usually enough to send his blood racing; still did, to a certain degree, but having something else to focus on dampens that reaction. for now. the black leather gloves come off and he reaches out, tucking the damp strands of her hair behind an ear, thumb very lightly tracing the shape of a bruise ] That Thing wannabe packed a punch, huh? [ yes, he knows exactly how showing even the glimmer of vulnerability is a struggle for her ] Except you were the one left standing. Imagine that.
[ silence hangs in the air for a moment; it isn't uncomfortable, they're past that stage, though it hasn't granted them immunity to tension. carefully, the buttons to his vest are undone before the garment is shrugged off altogether ] The real kicker is I don't know whether to be pissed at you or make sure you get healed up.
i'm glad to hear it ♥
Be pissed. I should have known better.
[ she should have seen something like this coming, after witnessing carlos and richard battling for power, after seeing countless others challenge the lords for it. up until now, things have gone relatively smoothly, or about as smoothly as they could have considering how she had come into her position. there are culebras out there who consider her ruling an affront to their culture and way of life, who think her way of ruling is weak and will lead to their destruction. who remember her as someone who ran, as the companion of the worst of the nine lords. who remember her as nothing more than a myth, than a symbol. she'd run from them and this life before, more than once. she's sure they remember that, too.
maybe they resent her for it.
her eyes slide closed as he reaches out to touch her, head tilting slightly towards his hand. it hurts, but she can deal with that. showing her weakness is worse, even in front of him. ]
no subject
the nights are worst and seth still isn't used to them even now, but he gets prepared. loaded up his imagination with plenty from the outside to think of in the dark. whole conversations coming and going. old job blueprints with richie, old movies with eddie, older conversations with his old man where he gets to say all the shit he never got to before the house burned down. and — cause he's a red blooded american guy in his prime, thank you — he thinks of women. thinks of vanessa and her carrot cakes, of ex-girlfriends, of magazine pin-ups from his misspent youth.
that's where he figures she comes from at first. spanish had never been his favorite flavor, so to speak, but he's seen plenty of fine looking women round the border and she had to have been one of them. smooth skin, dark eyes, smoky voice, built like a dancer— he doesn't know where he knows her from, mind, but he's not about to file a complaint about it. not at first. but soon she's going from appreciative flashes to recurring dreams to being the only voice he hears, and not just at night. he'll catch her out the corner of his eye in the mess, watch her weave between heavies out int he yard, get whispers of spanish in his ear that make him whip his head around trying to find who's fucking with him.
( for all the years spent defending his brother, a creeping and gnawing dread wraps itself around his gut the longer it goes on. is he out to lose his marbles too? is this what going crazy feels like? )
eventually he gets word out to richie with a recently paroled acquaintance: get me the fuck out of here. he doesn't care how dangerous, he doesn't care how big, all that matters is finding a place this spectral senorita won't follow before he totally falls to pieces.
his brother's good as gold and better. barely a month after sending his s.o.s. there's an unexpected court date for seth, needing transport to a county courthouse for some bullshit paperwork or whatnot. richie manages it smooth and easy at a rest stop long the way, all on his goddamn own the little fucker, and seth can't help whoopin' and hollerin' when they peel out down the highway.
hundreds of miles away, they're stopped in some shitty roadside liquor store for snacks and a map and seth pops into the bathroom to splash water on his face. catching his reflection in the mirror, he frowns at the bags under his eyes, the way his suit hangs a little loose, but shakes his head. ]
Screwed on tight.
[ couple nights on the open road will perk him right back up. get him back on his feed. free me, she'd kept saying, over and over— well. thank lord almighty but he was now and especially of her. ]