((Alrighty, and because I had no idea that Chatzy likes to eat old messages unless its paid $9 for its cooperation, what happened in the span of the last post up there -points up to Kayla's post- and what's down there -points down- is the following:
Ty gets a bit twitchy with the dinner prayer, thinking that he'd like to go strangle whatever God had this bad of a sense of humor and tells Kayla that he does indeed have a car, and that if she even contemplates walking or taking a cab with nonexistant money, he will strangle her. The good natured threat makes our heroine think about a certain monstrous man in her past life, she becomes very nervous and offers to help with dinner clean up which, of course, Ty the Butthead refuses. Kayla then retreats upstairs for a well deserved shower, leaving Mr. Butthead to clean up, strip down to his jeans because clothes chafe in ways nothing should ever chafe and turn on some cage fight matches to relax.
And now, back to our scheduled programming. ))
TY
.... (<---deleted by Chatzy...DAMN YOU. -shakes fist-)
Even though she did make some part of the back of his mind sit up and take notice of things he'd long since forgotten to see. Like how nice it was to have a body at the end of the table. Or to talk to someone other than himself, or Erik. Not to bad mouth the guy, but...hell, even the shifter had to be thinking that seeing his face every day was a bit tiresome. Gods, there was a reason why he liked his mountain. At least when he was up there, he could convince himself that being alone was all there was.
Yes, the two were a happy pair, weren't they? One afraid of something and the other angry at everything. It was a wonder how they didn't spontaneously combust right there, he thought with an inner smirk.
As he finished the bowl of food, he stood, chair going back with a squeak that was much too loud. It was like there was a bruised silence hanging around them, awkward and unsure. Shaking his head, he made sure his movements were slow as he reached across the table to scoop up her bowl in one scarred paw of a hand. Balancing the two bowls, his empty bottle and utensils in one hand and the pot in the other with a practiced ease, he strolled back into the kitchen. "Guests don't clean," He replied over his shoulder. He was oh so tempted to apologize for making her uneasy for whatever reason...but stopped himself. Tyreese Gla'Dour did not apologize to anyone, especially when he didn't know what the hell he said that was so upsetting.
"You can go clean up," He continued, plopping the dishes in the sink and the pot on the counter. Gods, he wanted to strip off his shirt, but remembering that wide eyed look of hers, he managed to keep himself at least partially civil. "Towel closet's next to the bathroom. Or if you want to watch the television, the remote's near the bed."
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KAYLAKayla's shoulders jerked a little at the sound, her eyes never leaving her now empty bowl, drawing her hands back from it as it was reached for. She hadn't eaten a lot, her appetite had disappeared with the fear (and the beer). Her hands folded into her lap as she sat there, eyes averted and head slightly ducked. She waited till he told her she could go. An old habit. When Ben had gotten into one of his angry tirades it was best to sit still and quiet. To not draw attention to herself. Some habits were hard to break, especially when they were habits that were trained to a person through fear and pain.
Standing carefully she stepped aside, scooting her chair in and making sure it was arranged just so. Perfect. Nothing else would do. That cell memory controling her actions even if she consciously didnt realize she was doing it, reverting back to those habits she'd gained from Ben. Another habit was taking suggestions as commands. Another thing she did automatically without a word. Her bare feet moved across the floor, silent and quickly, only making noise as she went up the stairs, the soft thudding of the ball of her foot touching the wood.
She stared into the closet a moment, tears standing in her eyes as she looked at the neat and orderly way the towels were stacked as was everything else. Pulling one out she wen tto her room, digging through the duffel bag and coming out with an oversized, old and faded football jersey. It was red with the number 77 on the back and the name Murdough in white lettering. The front read George Rodgers Clark High School . It had been her brother's. One of her favorites that she often swiped from him to sleep in. Tucking it and some fresh unmentionalbles under an arm she slipped off to the bathroom.
It wasn't the shower that turned on though, the sound of the water striking the porcelien of the tub and filling it unmistakeable as she closed the door, locking it before she stripped out of her jeans and other clothes, folding htem neatly and setting them on the basket by the door. Tiptoeing intothe water she let the almost scalding hot liquid envelope her as she slid into it's embrace, her head going under the water and remaining there for long moments until her lungs screamed in protest, shooting her head up out of the water with a deep gasp. The water helped wash away her tears but it also helped speed the progress of the booze in her blood. She knew she had to leave this town soon. Get enough money to travel on and get gone. She'd find someone that made fake IDs. There was someone like that everywhere wasn't there? Had to be...She get her ID and rent a cheap motel room once she had the money....fix the truck up...save a few weeks and be gone. She couldn't let herself get too attached and attached is exactly what she feared she was getting to the bald bruiser. That injured animal vibe he gave off and his own loneliness drawing her to him. her luck he'd be like the rest...not a white knight but a nightmare waiting to happen. So why couldn't she just forget about it?
She remains in there a long time. Too long really. At first she'd just hurried and washed up. Her hair lathered with the bar of soap she found in there and rinsed, the rest following. It felt good to get clean. But the heat of the water and the alcohol in her system lulled her into a sleep her body so desperately needed. It was like that that she dozed off into dreamland, little whimpers occassionaly leaving her lips that were oh so close to the water's edge after her body had slipped deeper into the water. The expressions on her face told the story of what her mind saw, tears leaking down her heat pinkened cheeks, little sobs leaving her chest. "No...please.." she whispered in her dreams,t he words traveling her lips as she relived nightmares. "Don't...don't wanna die."
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TYAs the girl left, Ty couldn't help but lean forward until his arms rested on the sink edge. Her steps were soft, but after walking on eggshells for most of his life, it was more than a bit easy to track her movements as she climbed the stairs and headed for her room. A telling creek on that old board in the hall told him that she was moving into her bedroom- Gods, he'd started to think of it as HER bedroom? HELL NO, the guest bedroom!- and another quiet creak informed him of her trek into the bathroom. He had gotten rid of those molding towels, from the last time a guest had stayed over, he knew he did...
After standing at the sink for a minute, quietly listening, he sighed in relief at the lack of screaming. Alright, so there weren't any upsets, so she hadn't found something nasty in the room. He did like to keep his apartment military clean...but he was a man. And, as others had told him on numerous occassions, it made it instinctual for him to do something horrible to the bathroom.
He could hear the faint trickle of water as the bath started up, and rolling his shoulders, he got back to work. He cleaned the pot mechanically and put the bowls into neat rows in the dishwasher. The table was then sprayed down, beer bottles rinsed, napkins washed and folded...Gods, he really was a woman when it came to his household. But living on his own tended to make a guy a bit more mindful of his surroundings...not to mention that having Erik waltz into his apartment and start pointing at random piles, calling him a frat boy and laughing his blond ass off tended to give a guy a complex. So, with the dishes done and the shower still going on upstairs, he stripped off his shirt and made himself comfortable in his living room/bedroom. He sank into the soft leather of his favorite chair, put his feet up on a stool and turned on the wall-length television so that he could watch a couple of 'fighters' beat the hell out of one another. It really was amazing what a guy could learn, when watching these things. Sure, he'd grown up fighting, but times changed and Ty did love to keep up on the times.
Mainly, the fighting ones.
With a content sigh, he leaned back into the familiar warmth of his chair, crossed his ankles and watched the round begin. Two large, able bodied men proceeded to jab and kick at one another, neither blood nor sweat deterring their goal. The larger one moved to slow, in his opinion, and that right block? Definitely leaving a hole so big, a five year old could crawl through it. As the fight went on, he couldn't help but growl out some useful advice to the larger opponent, even though it would go unheard. Young men today and their so-called 'fighting skills...' but Gods, that one move that the smaller of the pair managed to do with his knee! Definitely something he would try in the bar, if only to see if it really worked that well...
Fifteen minutes into the fight, the pipes above his head began to groan. Frowning, Ty glanced up at the ceiling and clicked the TV to mute. The only time that the things ever made THAT much of an unhappy noise was when he'd had a leak in the bathroom faucet and was away for a week. Running water made the old pipes a bit twitchy...but surely the chit couldn't still be in the bathroom. Could she? Pushing himself out of his chair, the gladiator moved to the stairs, momentarily forgetting about decorum as he padded up to the second level, once again dressed only in his jeans. When he reached the bathroom door, he rapped his knuckles against it. "Kayla?" He called out, leaning his head forward a bit as he strained to listen through the thick wood. "Kayla, are you alright in there?"
No answer. Alright..maybe he'd pissed her off during dinner? Or when he hadn't let her fix his shoulder. Women were fickle like that, as far as he could remember. Rapping against the door again, he did his best not to sound too irritated. "Kayla, girl, are you alright in there? You keep running that water and the whole building will be out. You wanna face angry people in their bathrobes? I don't." Another rap. "Kayla? Dammit, Mouse, if you don't answer me, I'm coming in there."
Once again, no answer. With a sigh, Ty took a step back and glared at the white door in front of him. The damn thing was hand carved to fit the damn doorway...but imagining a drowned woman floating in the bathtub, or some kind of mental breakdown resulting in her trying to slit her wrists...well, call it desperate measures. Maybe insurance could cover would-be-heroism?
With a sigh, he braced himself on the wall and shot his leg against the side of the door, close to the handle where it would be weakest. With a loud bang, the lock popped off and the door swung open, leaving him grimacing against the throbbing of his now aching foot. Just add that to his list of pains to think about later. Gods. He heard mumbling coming from the still form in the tub and he sent up a mental 'thank you' to whatever piece of shit diety was still watching- and probably having a great laugh at this one- and went to kneel at the edge of the tub. He slid a muscled arm beneath her head, making sure that she wasn't about to slide into the water and snort tile, and grabbed a towel to drape over the edges of the tub. She looked asleep, and hell if he wanted to wake up naked with his ugly ass looming over her. Attempted Rape charges, anyone?
"Kayla. I need you to wake up for me, girl," He said, forcing his gravelly voice to be as gentle as it could. "You're not gonna die, sweeting. Wake up for me."
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KAYLASo deeply was she into her drunken stupor not only did she not hear him outside the door but there wasn't even a flinch as the door banged open and bounced against the side of the wall a little.The tears were still on her cheeks and her head barely out of the water as she laid in the tub. The jumpy, twitchy little thing didn't even stir as that arm went under her head, her long wet hair draping over it as she was held up. The expression on that face was tortured, brows knit and that little wrinkle in her forehead between her eyes from the tension. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to jerk away at first, flinching at the touch as the nightmare in her ind rolled on, reliving the abuse she'd lived. Her heart breaking all over again as she watched the one she loved beating her. The many times it had happened ran together, bits from this time and that melding together until that image of his blacked out eyes loomed over her and wrapped his hands around her throat.
She gasped harshly and a whimper left her as she muttered in her passed out state. "Please Ben....no." But there was a peace that slowly began to settle into her as she heard that soft, gravely voice from somewhere far out in the blackness that surrounded her. A soothing sound that was solid and reassuring. She may not have registered it consciously but some part of her did. She turned into the arm holding her up and a hand reached up, gripping hold of it tightly, as if it were her last lifeline as she whimpered softly, seeking the comfort there, the surety. Her eyes never opened, the irises would likely roll back iin her head if her lid was raised. She was well and truly out of it. Her other hand reached out, out....for something...she didn't know what but she knew it would chase away the demons that trapped her in her dreams.
Those salty tears dropped like crystals onto the bicep she rested her cheek against. If only she knew what was happening she would have been mortified at her state of undress and vulnerability. Sometimes alcohol can be a good thing. There is still tension in her frame, her entire body trembling softly and the scent of fear coming off her. That one small hand slid up to his neck and held on, her head turning in and resting her forehead against bare chest, clinging as she held on, still searching for that anchor in her unconsciousness. The beautiful face of her bethrothed loomed before her.So beautiful. So cruel. So heartless. She just wanted to get away, to run, to hide. She knew what was coming. In her passed out state she went towards the one thing that offered her shelter, the solid boulder that was there that she could cling to in the sea of chais that engulfed her. If only she knew how accurate her visions in her dreams were to her reality.
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TYOh good GODS in ELYSION, what the hell was he supposed to do now?! As he'd slid an arm under her head, the only thing going on in Ty's mind was to make sure that she didn't suddenly drift down into the water and drown. He already had enough suspicion of murder charges on his various aliases, and man, he'd just moved into this place a few months back. Not to mention that it was in the perfect vicinity; away from the city and the college. If he lost it, there was no way that he was staying in New Orleans, unless he shacked up with Erik, but now that his brother was in some kind of 'romantic' thing with that witch woman...
Whatever rational thought was going through his mind proceeded to poof into a big cloud of smoke as a soft hand touched his arm. He froze, every muscle tensing as his eyes shot down to her face- keep them on her face, above the chin, for ALL THAT'S HOLY- and expected to see some kind of reaction on her face. She was probably just gripping his arm in an attempt not to scream as she gave him one of those wide eyed looks of hers. But, seeing lids closed and emotion still written on her face...well, Ty was torn between wondering if she was possessed, or merely dreaming. When she proceeded to call him 'Ben,' however, he went with the second option. Thank the Gods; the last thing he needed after such a strange night as this was to deal with an exorcism.
Having an intimate knowledge about nightmares and their ever claw-like state, he didn't try to wake her again. He just held himself still as she turned into his arm, her hand exchanging a hold on his arm for one around his neck. But all bets were off when she turned her face into his chest, with a pained sound that made him unreasonably protective. Good Gods, he was turning into some kind of Mother Hen, wasn't he? Damn, he had to find himself a fight tomorrow, if it was the last thing he did! As another small sound escaped her, he forced the thought back and focused on the situation at hand. So...he had a naked woman who was obviously in the clutches of a very bad dream. Given the empty state of her beer bottle, she was a light weight when it came to liquor...and Gods, now what was he supposed to do? With a sigh, he let one hand come up to gently wipe the tears from her exposed cheek. For a minute, he let himself feel; to bask in the warmth of having another person so close to him. Her breath on his chest and her warm arm curled around his neck...it sent emotions that he'd been convinced had died long ago, begin to stir in his chest.
But he couldn't let himself stay there, nor her, for that matter. "Ben isn't here, sweeting," He murmured into her ear, slowly straightening on his haunches. "Kayla...I'm going to lift you out of the tub. We're going to go into your room and get warm." It felt like a good idea to inform the passed out girl of his intentions...but GODS, he had to relay them in a different way! Hades, if those words didn't make his blood heat--
Cutting off the thought before it could bring him into unwanted territory, he put his mind back to his task. Keeping his eyes on her face, he slowly stood, bending down to slide his free arm under her knees. He stood, cradeling her to his chest and, with some careful maneuvering and the toilet seat as a balance, he managed to wrap a towel around her before he made for the bedroom. As he walked, he found himself murmuring to her in his native tongue, and layed her gently on the bed, adjusting the covers so that she was cocooned.[/color]
KAYLAShe never woke through the manuevering, her arms wrapping instinctively around his neck as her head cradled against his shoulder and neck, the lithe, small frame shivering but not from the cold. She was like a rag doll, limp and easily moved as the towel was wrapped around her, head lolling to one side. But the small whimpers had stopped and the tears, a strange almost-peace settling over her as if she sensed something that her waking mind could not. With those arms around her she snuggled against the person that held her, so needy for the comforting touch of another. In her life, in her family, even her community touching was a normal thing. You saw someone you knew you didn't nod distantly or just shake hands, you grabbed them and hugged them. It was normal, that simple sharing of warmth and affection between people with no designs or intentions other than to share your light and warmth with another and take only that in return. It was a simple life she came from for the most part. Simple till the demon had warped it and corrupted it. For those that know the way demons think and more so, how they enjoythemselves, it isn't a shock that it would have targeted such a friendly little community that was deeply rooted in family and faith. And even les surprising that it would have targeted one that spent so much of her life trying to make life better and a little brighter for anyone that came into her orbit. It was like letting a a fat kid loose in a candy store.
The gentle, beautiful sounds of that deep murmuring helped chase away those demons in her dreams more fully, calming and stilling the small slip of a woman in his arms, causing her to react to them as her breathing evened out, no longer shakey and stuttered with fear. Instead the gentle, warm, constant breathes she expelled tickled across his skin and warmed it where he hair had wetted it. She weighed next to nothing in his arms. Heck, he'd probably lifted dogs that weighed more, making her feel so infinitely small and delicate. As if the slightest thing would shatter her. But she'd proven to be resilient over the years despite this fragility. She'd lived through it and was here now.
A small sound, similar to her whimpers before but lacking the fear left her parted lips as she was laid upon the bed and wrapped up in the blankets, her hand searching, reaching out, needing that rock she'd clung to in her dream. Finding one large hand her own slipped inside it and held it, drawing it up close to her face, resting her cheek against it, a small kiss pressed to the back of that large scarred hand as she calmed and settled. She cuddled it like a teddy bear, taking hte same comfort feeling the heated skin there under her cheek as she might have her old stuffed animal she'd brought with her, the ragged and angy looking teddy bear sitting askew at the top of her bag in the closet. She'd never thought about shutting the door. Never imagined she would have to try to hide her things so soon. Everything she had of her family was in that bag; her photos, her letters from her mother and father and grandfather that had been tucked in there before they sent her out on the run.
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TYGods, he felt so strange. As he lifted her in his arms, she did indeed seem to weigh as much as a feather and the realization made that surge of protectiveness even stronger. He was so damn afraid that she would break in his arms, as seemingly frail as she was, and he kept his hold gentle as he cradled her to his chest. The warmth of her body, bare beneath the course material of the towel, was like fire to his skin. It felt so...familiar- yes..that was the word- to hold her in his arms like this and he was almost reluctant to let her go. He knelt at the edge of the bed, his size making it easy to be level with her face as she curled up beneath the covers and, as if it had a mind of its own, found his hand wandering to the wet strands of hair around her temples. Gently, as her face slowly lost its tension, he smoothed the damp locks from her forehead, tucking them behind her ear.
He really was in some serious trouble, here, he thought with a mental sigh. The sane thing to do was to slide some money into her locket and say it was anonymous, and make sure she stayed the hell out of his life. And yet...it was almost...well, NICE to have someone around who didn't fear him. Gods, forget that; she twitched and shrank from him every second that she got! But in this state, asleep as she was...it took all of his self control not to touch her. She was so soft, so small, and all he wanted to do was to lie down in the bed behind her and pretend that he would be welcome in her arms.
...Yeah, and pigs would fly. He'd try that and wake up to screams of 'RAPE! RAPE!' before he had his morning cup of coffee. Definitely not condusive to a good morning, that.
Now would be a great time to leave, before he could start thinking about how good she felt in his arms. Or how he'd just love to take a peek at the scenery below her chin and underneath the bath towel. She was small, but there were curves in all the right places, from the outfits he'd seen in the bar...AW HELL. With a mental smack, he jerked his mind from the train of thought and pushed himself to his feet. Definitely time to take a shower himself and use up all the cold water. But, before he could escape, those small hands shot out to use his own as some kind of soothing blanket. Which was, in all reality, enough to make him burst out laughing...but when she pressed a kiss to the scars on his knuckles? Hades, he knew deep down that, no matter where the woman went in her lifetime, she would always have someone watching over her in the background.
Tyreese: But none of that could stop the slightly panicked look from his face. He fought down the temptation to take her into his arms again, gently trying to extract his hand from her grasp. He looked around the room a bit frantically, hoping to find something to replace the valuable appendage and almost sighed in relief when he spotted her things piled up in the closet. It was as if he saw her as a child right then, imagining that she'd wake up screaming if he pulled her away. In all reality, however, he couldn't help but want to preserve her current state of peace, as he knew how hard it was to have. So, in quick succession, he pulled his hand from her grasp, practically threw himself at the closet and made it back with her bear before her hands could grab at air. Whoof, close one, there.
He glanced over his shoulder at her bags, curiosity tugging at his chest. He could see the faint outline of a large book poking out of her duffel, and pictured some kind of picture album...but, with a shake of his head, he merely walked toward the door. Whatever secrets Kayla was carrying were none of his business. All he had to worry about was keeping her safe...and making sure that no one named 'Ben' came in a hundred yards of her. Mentally, he made a note to talk to Wicked's head bartender. With one last glance over his shoulder, he watched her sleeping face, that annoyingly strong feeling in his chest coming up again. Before he could do something stupid, however, he quickly walked out and closed her door quietly.
It was time for a cold shower that would make the Antarctic look like Fiji. Oh yeah, he did love his frikken chivilrous streak.
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