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 Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 6:31 pm
He had no idea what was going on inside that impossible head of hers, no matter how hard he looked at her, no matter how much he wished he could summon his claws again and tear it out of her. But even that at this point was nothing more than musings. He had no further intentions to act upon her, simply curiosity about how she purported to evade death itself.
He let his hand drop as it was removed and didn't flinch or protest, though Butch did, the idea of a flinch expecting to be struck was puzzling to him. The canine creature was a mass of baffling emotions and complexes he would have almost infinite time to solve later.
He reassembled his hands patiently clasped in his lap and made no move to leave.
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Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 8:32 pm
She was glad she had no voice for the questions she wanted to ask.
She was thankful for the fact her hands were occupied, because there was an odd urge to hold his. To inspect them for whatever secret answers were writ small on skin.
She appreciated the people walking past, wrapped up in their own business and lives. It made her own quieter, less dramatic. She could restrain herself so much more easily when there was less focused attention spurring her on.
She ate slowly, and when she was done, handed him the bowl and spoon. She left him without a backward glance and entered one of the patient rooms.
At the click of the door behind her, America slid to the floor and quietly fell apart.
Just until she could build herself back up again.
Only a few minutes more.
She had this.
It would be fine.
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Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 8:42 pm
He watched her because that was all he ever did, and he stayed because he had nowhere else to go until tommorow. Butch felt like it was the right thing to do, though objected that humans could not set their head in other humans laps, he insisted this a soulful stare would make a difference. Lawrence just let him ramble on and on, filling up the silence with his confused not-human not-dog thoughts.
When she left he took the bowl and spoon without complaint and watched her go.
He looked at them for a few brief moments.
And then he followed her, or tried, because it was what Butch said was the best idea and right now - dealing with a situation he hadn't planned and didn't understand - he had none of his own.
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Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 10:33 pm
She should have locked the door, but it was just him and he wouldn't worry. Couldn't soothe. Couldn't make this moment any bit worse. Once again she was thankful for the enforced silence, her soft keening sounds not loud enough to be heard in the room next door and alert the ones that actually mattered.
The girl had made herself small on the floor, barely visible in the dimness of the room, hair obscuring most of her face. Hands, white knuckled, gripped her ankles as her body wracked and shuddered with silent, ugly sobs.
It had been a hard few days.
She was a girl who had lived her life with open honesty, whose word and own sense of honour were a bone deep part of her own existence. The idea that she should be executed for treason was unfathomable. It would be offensive, but to take offense would be to take it seriously, and it was simply beyond belief that such a thing could be. But still...
It had been a hard few weeks.
America didn't mind this man witnessing her break apart into something ugly, and sad, and raw. She was not so fragile that she could not piece herself back together after a good cry. At the end of the day, it would still be him that she hated and never herself.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 5:18 am
It looked like pain. She looked like she was in some physical pain, but he knew it was more than physical, though he couldn't understand how it felt. Even as a child when he was denied something he wanted or distressed, he had never thrown tantrums and had ceased crying at a young age. His parents had thought there was something wrong with him. Autism they'd assumed as he closed himself off into his own selective little world.
He moved to kneel next to her again, as if just by being close he could share in some of the pain and hurt she felt, as if he could learn to lament his own fate. He didn't try to comfort her because he didn't understand what was wrong, nor did he see any reason why she should stop. And he didn't apologise because he wasn't sorry.
He didn't take that level cold gaze off her and he didn't say anything either, because he had no idea, no idea at all what to say.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:03 am
If asked what her best feature was, after getting past her adamant my everything's, America would be forced to admit that it was her heart. And not the emotional sense, not in love or selflessness. Her heart was physical and it was strong. It was a steady rhythm that kept pace no matter where her mind went; a simple beat that she could always, always come back to.
After breaking apart and spilling out soundless sorrows on the floor, America finally came to a point of emptiness that felt clean and unencumbered. Mindlessly, she focused on that steady throbbing as it slowed and evened out, the rest of her body falling into place behind it. It started slowly and then she came together suddenly, useless things were cast aside. Done was done. Bad things happened and she was still here. Just listen to her heart, proof positive that she was still here. Everything else pulled back in comparison to the fact of her own continued existence.
She was going to build a life for herself on this island, and a good one at that.
There was nothing here that was going to stop that.
Body relaxed and calm, she uncurled and flipped her back, and when she saw his stare there was an almost desperate desire to cover his eyes, because watching her was a privilege not a ******** right. Instead she settled for grabbing the edge of his scarf to wipe her face and then, in a fit of spite, using it to blow her nose.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:17 am
Lawr had watched a lot of people fall apart. His wife, his children, his parents, and every time he had hoped there would be some moment of eureka where he would understand what it was that caused it and what function it served in the long run. He had deduced that sometimes despair, fear, hurt, anger any emotion at all could become overwhelming and gum up the greater machine entirely. It was not very efficient all told. If he had depth of emotion he would simply never allow it to happen.
He looked down at his scarf as she grabbed it, and undid it from around his neck, it was white. His real scarf, the one he was issued on arrival to the island, Jan normally wore a blue-lavender one he'd brought with him. "You know that there are tissues around right?" he asked, but it was evident at the same time the contact, however brief had added an edge of life and false accent to his tone. It was the same as his interactions with Maebe and Sasha, proximity and contact almost forced him to draw forth some persona or another to hide behind, the true him for most people was capable only of violence, America had to date been the singular exception and even then violence had been some intrinsic core of their interaction.
"Because keeping that white as bright as it is rather difficult, even with the stashed washing liquids."
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:29 am
She sniffed imperiously and then pulled out her little pad of paper to write him a new note: Good. That's what you get for upsetting me and then following to watch the show. America took care to roll the scarf up and squash it into a big wrinkly ball before placing it on the floor as she stood up to leave. Pausing she wrote him another: I am going to another room and I am locking the door behind me. Go away. I'll see you tomorrow.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:35 am
He gave no affirmative, simply picked up the scarf and then stood himself, giving her a long thoughtful look before pocketing both the notes the same deft way he had the first. Butch wasn't sure whether to feel scolded or praised and was no use to him for gaining and understanding of how he should feel.
"Later missy." he said before he obediently turned to leave, but he forgot Jan's accent entirely.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:50 am
America watched him go and couldn't deny that a part of her was desperately relieved. That evening she sent out two texts, placing all her trust and belief in the fact that for every terrible person willing to hurt there were always several more, willing to heal and fix and make things better. zoobey Text to: Allancaelius wants to execute me tomorrow for treason he is wrong please help me allan taichou Quote: Text to: Simoncaelius wants to execute me for treason tomorrow please make sure allan taichou know this isnt a game or joke i need help please sir It was odd that the singular most destructive division was where they were to be found.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 10:44 am
It would be the next day close to deadline. There was no text reply. She was alone.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 1:49 pm
America arrived on time, in the hunter uniform and coat she so very rarely wore. She was indeed alone. Posture straight and her face was set, she was not going to die today. Not for somebody else's lies and mistakes, and most definitely not for a treason that she didn't commit.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 3:23 pm
Lawrence showed up on time as always, dressed once again as himself with the addition of several layers of clothing. If he wasn't allowed to pack he was at the very least going to show up prepared, with his pockets stocked with what little he had to bring with him. He had grey shadows under his eyes where he had decided that sleep was a pointless endeavour.
His scarf was clean. He'd spent some of his time in the laundry room in lieu of sleep, not sure what he was expecting from being there.
America got a Jan smile and a nod despite the attire. "Ahm lookin forward to yer great escape." he said.
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:11 pm
The Death lead was waiting there as always. He waited for both of them to assemble, he waited for a long lapse of silence, and when both were suitably as uncomfortable as possible, he started.
"I think we all know if this were a proper execution I would not arrange a meeting the next day. Your lives are possibly worth your value in information. I want a recount from the both of you." If he noticed any injuries he didn't mention it. "Were you acting impetuously for a goddamned good reason or were you just ******** around."
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Posted: Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:44 pm
America's relief was such that she refrained that the last meeting he'd had nearly resulted in Taym's execution. For the moment things had taken a turn for the reasonable, the ordered and just. Maybe not something she could take for granted in the command, not anymore, but she'd gladly latch onto it where and when it arose. Back straight and head raised, she spoke calmly, as professional and impersonal as she could manage given the circumstances.
"He asked for a spar, I agreed," she began, voice rusty and painful. "I need more spars 'cause I've been losing a lot, plus he said he'd never had one before. I wanted the information it'd give about him, as I don't particularly trust this man." She gave Lawr a flat, accusatory look, but went on to admit, "Sparring that late and alone was sketchy and should not have counted on the dampener thingie to protect me if things went sour. So that was my mistake in this, sir."
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