Welcome to Gaia! ::

Character: Donovan

---

It was late. Again.

Not like this should have come as any sort of surprise though; fate, destiny, or whatever one would have liked to call it always seemed to make it so that somehow, he was always out way beyond what would have been deemed as a proper hour. No wonder his neighbours were always whispering behind his back... 2am was in no way an hour at night during which he should have been seen walking the streets of Erasmus (or any other place, really). In his defense, he'd always been a bit of a night owl, if for no other reason than the fact it was quiet and peaceful at night.

This time, however Donovan had honestly not meant to be returning home SO god damned late. He'd been sitting at a bench at the park, open book lifted up to read, and... well, he'd been so entranced by the god-damned story that he'd not bothered to look up till he'd reached the last word of the last page. By the time the koshka had turned his gaze from the book, it'd turned pitch dark, the park eerily illuminated by the few street lights here and there, the flames dancing within the cages, forming shadows all around, "Bloody hell," it was a murmured curse as he turned to glare at the small creature perched on his shoulder, "Why didn't you warn me it was this late? You useless piece of.... a thing."

The creature in question cracked an eye open up at the dark koshka, then proceeded to ignore his words, opening its mouth wide into a yawn as it stretched itself out.

"What kind of a bat are you anyhow?" his decidedly dark, rather scary physical appearance usually warded most people off, and as such, Donovan was instead, used to talking to his pets as if they were perfectly sentient, "I bring you with me so that you'll ******** warn me, and you sleep the whole time," bringing out a pocket watch, he flattened his ears back against his skull, "Watch; the moment we get home, we'll have that irksome b***h of a hag next door thinking I've murdered someone and have been out disposing the corpse," the small bat seemed to be ignoring everything her master was telling her, in all honesty; she wiggled her small nose and then tucked her head under a dark wing, no doubt intent on resuming the sleep she'd been so rudely awaken from, "Right, go back to sleep, you god damned useless thing," despite his harsh words though, a hand reached up to tap the small creature's head, "Let's go back then, I guess," and with a dramatic woosh of his cloak, Donovan walked down the park lane, well aware he looked like the last person anyone would want to meet in a dark alley.

It wasn't his fault though. It wasn't like he could control how his facial features looked; every time he tried to smile, it looked like he was planning to murder someone. With a teaspoon. Repeatedly. His rather usual rude choice of words, and his tendency to stick his foot in his mouth hadn't helped him much either, really. Such was life.

The girl would have gone absolutely unnoticed by him (after all, he was kind of busy trying to think what he was going to tell the police after the woman next door phoned them with another false story) had she not made so much noise. The rustling of the bush and the sound of branches breaking could have been ignored but the god-awful sound of the shattering glass... not so much.

Instantly, Donovan's ears perked against his mess of dark hair (he was honestly going to have to do something with his hair but really, he'd tried everything and it always just looked wild; he had no idea WHAT to do with it), "The hell was that?" the bat that had remain mostly inmobile on his shoulder lifted her head to look to her right, her tiny, beady eyes piercing the darkness as she squeaked, "Oh, ******** hell, shut it Gaz! I know it's there!" despite his words though, the bat kept squeaking against his ear, forcing the koshka to fold them back or risk a splitting headache.

Reaching up, he used the hand that wasn't carrying his book (Dracula by Bram Stoker, amusingly enough, and probably not helping his chances for a nice social reunion), to shut the creature's maw as he leaned over the ledge of bushes. Indeed, the girl was.... quite a sight to say the least, "The hell are you doing?" he asked, piercing, icy blue eyes staring down at her. While he had absolutely no intention of harming her... well, he'd never been very good at making friends, let's just leave it at that. He was mentally kicking himself already and swiftly backpedalled in an attempt to salvage the situation, "Uh.... need help there?" there, that sounded remotely rational in a non-serial-killer sort of way, right? Right. Now, if he could only offer her a smile without sending her for the hills, all would be right in the world.

He didn't seem to care she was a halfbreed (while it was obvious he was a full koshka, his long fluffy tail and his furry hand, which he'd stretched out to aid her proof enough). Then again, Donovan had never really understood the whole war that had been going on seemingly since... well, ever. Who was he to judge anyone by their cover when everyone seemed to judge HIM wrongly?

And.... here we go again.

Donovan had to practically refrain from letting out a sigh and reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose; this was exactly the reaction he got from approximately 90% of the population. God forbid he ever try to help anyone, they all seemed intent on thinking he was going to pull out a letter opener from thin air and stab them to death. As it was, he was more tempted to walk over to the nearest tree and bash his head against the bark; of course that would have meant he'd walked back to the girl with a bloodied, wounded forehead, and something told him that wasn't going to help the situation any.

Watching the girl stutter and look almost as if she were about to have a heart attack any moment now, the male pondered retracting his arm away from her and walking away. But.... it was late at night, it was dark and the girl was obviously helpless, not to mention that while HE was pretty damned safe (despite what people seemed to believe), there were much darker beings perfectly willing to pounce on innocent little girls. Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes till he saw stars behind them and tried again, "You hurt anywhere?" he'd lowered his voice to a murmur in an attempt to sooth her somewhat. Despite his best efforts though, it seemed as if he was really about to give the girl a heart attack, "Oh, hush your babble girl, m'not gonna hurt you!" of course, it was again, the wrong string of words to offer, but he couldn't help it; his passionate nature and his fiery temper usually got the best of him before 'OH s**t' he realised that was NOT what he meant to say.

In an effort to rectify yet again, he crouched down (not only might it help because it made him smaller and perhaps less threatening, but somehow... not looming over people seemed to have a semi positive effect), "You looking for these?" the hand he'd stretched out to help her was retracted so he could grab her glasses from the ground; the sparkling of the glass thanks to the light of the lamps had been a dead give away to him. Of course, the bat perched on his shoulder picked that moment to spread her wings and go investigate this NEW and WONDERFULLY interesting person her owner was talking to. YAY!

He would have slapped his hand over his face, had either of them been free for him to do so; as it was however, he couldn't really do that, and so Donovan contented himself with just hanging his head forward for a moment, as if in utter defeat. God, why did he even TRY? He was sure that had it been daylight, some officer would have walked by, thinking (due to the girl's horrified squeaks and cringing) he was torturing her to death when all he'd done was offer her the damned glasses.

It was due to this that he did not see when Gaz left his shoulder, intent on exploring the girl's head, face and... hell, anywhere she could stick her furry little head in, "Yes, your glasses, I-" he was cut up by a new string of squeals, causing him to frown as he looked up because GOD ******** DAMN IT he had done nothing to warrant those and- .... was that his bat? "Gaz!" the bat in question blinked up with teeny tiny beady eyes and then flopped herself on the horrified girl's shoulder. Why was it nothing ever seemed to go right for him? Well, this was surely the end of THIS meeting; the girl was likely to run for the hills now, without her glasses, screaming bloody murder. There was no doubt about this.

That was why Donovan was rather surprised to note said horrified girl was still on the ground in front of him and... well, shock aside, didn't look like she was all that horrified about having a bat near her neck (a bat many would have wrongly thought to be a vampire - he was going to have to teach the damned town a lesson one of these days; vampire bats did not do that stupid latching onto-your-neck-sucking-doom thing, geez), "Uhh..." slightly startled due to the unexpected turn of event, the koshka blinked, "Yeah. Her name's Gazini. I call her Gaz," after a moment, he stretched out his hand (seeing as how she was not going to do anything to near him) and placed the glasses on her nose quite carefully; the softness of his movement was a direct contradiction to his whole outward appearance, "She's harmless. She's a fruit bat," it was added as an afterthought as he straightened himself back into a standing position, once more offering her his hand to take.

What were the chance she was going to take it? Donovan was currently in the process of betting against himself on the results, really. He was still of the opinion she was going to get up and run for the damned hills any moment now, "Are you hurt?" seeing as how her previous terror had willed her silent, he decided to ask again, "Glass," he explained, "Around you; did you cut yourself?"

"Glass," he repeated again, slowly, as if talking to a child, "Blood. Wounds. Do you have any?" for someone so damned dark and scary, he had quite a bit of patience, that was for sure; he still had his hand stretched out, waiting patiently to see if she'd take it, and was content with just watching her, a scowl written over his features, "Donovan," he finished her sentence for her, "My friends call me Donnie," a pause, his lids hooding his eyes for a moment as he snorted, "Or they would, if I had any; what's your name? Otherwise I'm just gonna keep calling you 'girl'," one of these days, he was going to pay someone to teach him how to talk to others without scaring them shitless. Really. He swore he was going to do so; as it was, he wished he could once again bash his head against a tree.

It was just that... when he opened his mouth, things came out which he honestly didn't even MEAN half the time. It was probably mostly out of habit and a means of defending himself against the scowls people threw at him when he walked by.

He was half about ready to sigh and retract the hand he'd offered her, when the girl actually took it. For a moment, he was struck dumb, though it lasted only a few seconds. Then, he pulled her up with ease so that he could examine the damage on her; he scrambling around due to her fear had caused a bit of... dirt and leaves to get caught in her clothes, but she seemed otherwise fine? He couldn't see any wounds on her, but then again, it was dark. Blinking, he found himself staring at the bat that was held out in front of his face; letting go of the girl's hand, he reached up to the take tiny animal, replacing it on his shoulder. Said bat, for the most part, seemed perfectly content to be handled and as soon as she was placed on her owner's shoulder, curled up once more, using her wing to hide her head, no doubt preparing to go back to sleep, "Bloody useless furball that she is, too. Everyone thinks she's a vampire bat," something seemed to strike him as odd then, "Seems like you know how to handle her, and you weren't afraid. What gives?"

It was mostly curiosity that made him ask, but no sooner were the words out that he physically slapped his hand over his face, noticing how forceful he sounded, "Let me start over; I'm sorry for scaring you," he murmured, his ears flat, "And ... I'm sorry my bat decided to use you as... a perch. I won't really be surprised if you take the chance to run away," did that sound half reasonable? Gaz squeaked, almost as if amused, from the perch on his shoulder.

"Donnie is... fine," he was going to have to calm down and somehow manage to stop scaring the girl shitless every two seconds, otherwise he WAS going to be filed with murder; if the girl dropped dead from a heart attack it was going to be all his god damned, bloody ******** fault. Breathe in, breathe out, he thought to himself, and slowly, tried again. Or at least... he tried to; he only got as far as opening his mouth before he shut it again. The girl (Deanna, he rectified in his mind), was a walking bundle of nerves; she seemed utterly unable to talk properly, not to mention he was practical driving him crazy with the way she was wringing her hands together.

All in all, if he'd thought she'd looked helpless before, well, she now looked to be the picture of 'utterly pathetic'. So much so that Donovan was sure he could have looked the word up in the dictionary and he'd have found a picture of her. Refraining from expressing his new-found thoughts to her (goody, that would've done a whole load of good on her, in her current situation, he was sure of it.... except not), he brought his hands forwards with difficulty (mostly because of the book he was still managing to hold) to stop the erratic movement of her own ones. The gesture was, again, rather soft, contrasting greatly with his voice and appearance, "Okay then, calm down. M'not gonna hurt you. Breathe in and out and calm down," he told her, "Try again," funny, not to mention ironic he was telling her exactly the same thing he'd been telling himself.

Different, yet alike.

Funny how life seemed to work.

His hands dropped from hers as his gaze trailed down to the million broken shards of glass, "Uhm..." well, there was no saving any of THAT, that was for sure. In a way, he felt mildly responsible, "Well, s**t," this said, he began to heard her off somewhere or other. He was silent for a full minute before he turned to look over his shoulder at her, "I know a chemist that's open at this hour. I'll pay for all that s**t. Something tells me you tripped because of me," it was gruff and slightly grunted, but the intention was good; it still contrasted with the way in which he lead her, awkwardly, firmly, but without force... so that if she'd struggled even once, she'd have been able to break free from his grip, "Smelled like chemicals, so imma assume it's a chemist you need."

Good, she was calming down. Somewhat. Sort of... kind of? Well, at least she no longer looked like she was going to drop dead from a heart attack, which was a dire improvement in Donovan's eyes, "Good, just calm down," he murmured again, having noticed that murmuring seemed to have a better effect on her, "It's.... it's okay. I..." well, yeah, he couldn't just very well send the girl off to her home and brother looking like someone had pounced her and raped her and stolen her goods and oh god, no, he was seeing her safely home. Her level of patheticness radiated off of her in some sort of an aura, much like he radiated scary-vibes, she seemed to radiate 'come and get me' vibes. At least, if he went with her, anyone wishing to approach her would have to near him and well, in a way it cancelled out?

Again, funny how things worked.

Regardless, he was not leaving her alone just yet, "It's fine. It's broken, isn't it? 'Sides it's not like you can't pay back later if it bothers you, I just..." what? Can't leave you here alone looking like a pathetic little puppy? Can't just.... whatever, he wasn't sure. It wasn't often he was even allowed to help (The last time had warranted him the scars he sported on his face - scars the neighbours seemed intent on making rumours about... while truth was, he's gotten them while trying to help a cat down from a tree), and so he was almost positively thrilled, albeit in his own unique way, "Just Donnie is fin-" he paused, and turned to look over his shoulder, "You know what? Call me whatever the hell you like. S'all fine," he seemed to have gotten mildly used to the stuttering and was beginning to suspect that she talked like that on a normal basis, and had less to do with him and more to do with the way she was.

As if in retaliation to her thoughts, the bat in question lifted her head from her burrow in the crook of her master's neck and looked at Dea, either amused her master was finally talking to someone, or simply happy to see that the new interesting person was coming with them; yay! Squeaking, she once again spread her wings and changed her position, gliding to land on Dea's shoulder, pressing the top of her head against the girl's cheek like a contented cat.

He was still watching her out the corner of an eye, almost as if still half expecting her to wrench her hand out of his and rush off, screaming bloody murder, not to mention probably trip and fall flat on her face over the pavement of the walkway. Something told him the girl was not only pathetic, but awkward and clumsy; in fact, he had half a thought she wouldn't make it far without tripping all over herself, speech and... otherwise. How had the girl even survived till now? "Anything's fine," he assured her in a raspy murmur as she tried time and time again to settle for what she was going to call him.

In a way, it was almost endearing how she just seemed to be unable to settle on a single name; being called mister made him feel old, good lord... 'Mister' was what people called his father (whom he didn't even live with anyhow). Donovan was more used to being called 'that psycho next door' than Mister. As the bat turned to press her head against Dea's cheek, the boy nodded as if to himself and continued to lead the way through the darkened streets. There was no one about but the rare soul that stared at them from random alleys, but Donovan paid them no heed, rushing off towards where he hoped the chemist was still open while the girl was mildly er... entertained with his pet bat. At least it seemed as if the tiny animal's contact calmed her; was she an animal lover? He knew of few people willing to allow a bat to cuddle with them (which was nonsense in his humble opinion - bats were great animals, given the chance).

Luck was (for once) on his side; when he rounded the corner, he found the store he'd been looking for, and a small, dim light from inside indicated it was open. Trying to ignore the way Dea (still) trembled, he pushed her forward a bit, "Tell the person what you need. That way, your brother won't get mad, will he?"