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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 20:29:05 GMT -8
Valentine took a step closer. They weren't very far apart at all to begin with. This meant they were, actually, close. His voice stayed even, stayed direct: "That you think it's true. We're soulmates."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 20:31:52 GMT -8
"How else would you explain this mess?" she snapped, whirling around, only to stumble back, eyes slightly wider when she saw how close he was. Too close. Way too close for comfort. Hell, being in the same town would probably be too close for her.
Some vampire she was, stumbling and terrified just because she had a soulmate.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 20:36:17 GMT -8
He didn't smile at how terrified she looked. Terror -- it never made him smile. He didn't have that sort of dark heart. "This mess," he repeated, bitterly.
But his gaze was still so damned steady, so damned earnest. He reached out; touched her; fingers brushed against her cheek. There was nowhere for her to back up to any longer -- just the wall. Of course, it would be easy to duck under his arm -- easy to kick him or throw him back. He was just a witch.
She was stronger. Faster.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 20:45:53 GMT -8
But Marit didn't fight back. She couldn't, since fear had paralyzed her. The moment he touched her, she'd turned as still as a statue. Her pupils dilated until there was hardly any black, just pure swimming silver in her terror.
She didn't like him touching her, but yet she did. It was a duality of feeling, sensing that connection, but she didn't want that, did she? Because fear always brought up old memories. Memories of being trapped... the beating... the rape... running, but never free. She didn't want that to happen again.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 20:53:00 GMT -8
His touch was gentle. First, the fingers against her cheek; then they traced the line of her neck. He brought up his other hand, too, to touch her other cheek. The knuckles of that hand grazed her ear as he brought it back, and then he was holding her face, and yes, he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, she could feel it in the careful way he held her.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 20:57:26 GMT -8
((Hehehe. Ok. ATTACK TIME!))
Marit realized what he was going to do, and it startled her into action. She was certain someone was screaming, a sound that was ridden with panic and pain, but she was so detached at that moment that she didn't realize it was her. Her fist slammed into his stomach, and she kicked him in the shin, effectively throwing him off even though she was only using a little bit of her strength.
"Why is it that men are always after the same thing?" she spat, scooting along the wall away from him. "You're all the same. Vile, pigs. Do you think to ask if we want to be touched? No! Do you care if when your fists hit, that we bleed? Of course not! And when we do not wish to give over our bodies, what do you men do? You take, and you take, and you take! Never asking!"
By now she was breathing heavily, her eyes as wide as they could go, making her look like a wounded and frightened tiger, or some sort of hunting cat.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 21:11:13 GMT -8
Even though she was just using a fraction of her strength, it was still enough to render Val into a worldahurt. We'll call it HurtWorld.
He buckled over when her fist slammed into his stomach, all his breath leaving in a whoosh; then he jumped when she kicked him in the shin. His right hand was over his stomach; his left was reaching for his shin.
He managed to gasp: "I... was... asking..." Pause. Then, low: "What happened to you..."
---
And both players in the drama were likely too distracted to hear Beatrix's footsteps when she ran -- yes, ran -- back to the alley's mouth. Marit was screaming, and Beatrix, although she really couldn't care less about most people who walked the world, really did care what happened to her brother.
She knew he couldn't handle himself.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 21:31:35 GMT -8
Marit hadn't noticed Beatrix. All she had eyes for was her soulmate jumping around the alley in pain. A part of her felt guilty for having hurt him, but another part was triumphant for defending herself... which was stupid because he was being nice, but she was too scared to actually listen to logic.
For a brief moment she bared her teeth at him, like some barely contained animal, and then grabbed him by his shirt collar, lifted him up and slammed him into the wall, holding him there.
"What... happened... to me?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Do you really want to know? Really? Fine, then watch."
She didn't give him time to ponder over her words, or time for her to realize this was the last thing she should be doing. No. She just decided to slam his mind with her memories of her human life, especially those of her late husband. He wanted to know, well, she'd let him. He was really too naive for his own good, and such dark memories she hoped would shock him. It was what she was going for after all.
There were a great many in there, just for the hell of it. But she saw each one as she set them into his mind, and there were a few that were prominent, the ones that always hurt her to remember.
Her first night, married, and her husband dragging her to the bedroom. She'd been thirteen, scared and alone, and he had done nothing but make matters worse. Throwing her, beating her until she was half conscious, and then ripping her of her innocence. Her screams and pleas had only served more damage. He'd never had her willingly, only taking what he wanted, raping her when he felt the need, each time more brutal.
The time she'd been with child... Eight months pregnant and one drunken night he'd come home to beat her. She'd gone into early labor, the healers coming in to find her bloodied and bruised... She'd lost consciousness before the baby was born, only to wake and be told that she'd had a daughter... A daughter who was stillborn because of the physical trauma.
The night she'd been captured after running away. Her husband's henchmen were no different from him, taking turns beating and raping her... until a vampire happened upon them, killing the men and turning her simply because he'd wanted her for himself. He'd called her 'a pretty doll'... only to have her wake and flee again, this time with the strength to fight back...
Such memories were like knives to her heart. Served him right, to see these things...
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 22:12:30 GMT -8
The shirt collar wants to rip, but doesn't, when she slams Val into the wall and holds him there. He was beginning to look tousled in an altogether different way, and his hair fell into his eyes the color of moonlight-on-wet-leaves. His hands lifted to circle her wrists. That was a mark of how confused he was made by this. By her. He was a witch, and by Hecate and Hellewise, he was able to better defend himself than this -- or he should've been.
But her memories sliced through his defenses like a hot knife through butter, and he was helpless, defenseless, before them -- and in truth, he accepted them. He didn't even try to stop her.
He gasped. His expression changed -- he really was terrified. Because he was living her memories the way she'd lived them. The thing is: he wasn't terrified of her. And even with everything going on in his head, he closed his eyes, shook it, then opened his eyes again and tried to look at her, tried to meet her eyes, let her know that it was okay even if it did hurt him. "Marit -- " he said.
And then? Then Beatrix took him away. He got taken by the dark. Not physically, oh no. Marit was still holding her soulmate against the brickwall. But it seemed as if he'd fainted, as if he'd passed out, and the place where Marit had been shoving her most violent memories was completely gone. Couldn't see it. Couldn't find it. Except she knew it was there. She could still -feel- him, somehow.
It was dark, dark, dark. And speaking of dark, the dark was about to eat her alive, to peel her skin from her flesh, to do everything her husband had ever done to her, but worse, oh, much, much worse. Marit could feel it climbing into her eyes, feel it grasping for her heart.
This? This was all because of Beatrix, who was pale with fury, who was standing very tall and very straight, her right hand a fist. "I wasn't asking you earlier," Beatrix said, "when I said try not to hurt him! I was just being polite!"
The light outside the door Marit'd come out of wasn't working any more.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 22:16:41 GMT -8
When the darkness came, Marit let go of Val's body, but she didn't move otherwise. A part of her wanted to be scared of this, it really did because that would make things easier. Make her fight back, even if it would do no good. She didn't know what kind of witchery this was, but she knew it could hurt, it could kill. But Marit really didn't care. Who would, when they'd lived so long with nothing to live for?
"Next time tell your brother not to provoke me," she hissed. "But if you're going to kill me, you may as well get it over with. I don't really care."
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 22:22:30 GMT -8
"That's a shame. You're only worth killing if you care."
The teenager -- well, Dark; she was Dark all the time, it seemed -- kept her gaze on Marit. Val, well, Valentine stayed unconscious, stayed untouchable and quiet, and wouldn't be be unhappy when he woke up? Yes. Yes he would be.
But the sensation that Marit felt eased a little. Beatrix said: "So why don't you just go back inside? I've got to get this big lug home. And I don't have vampiric strength to help me."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 28, 2008 22:30:08 GMT -8
Marit quirked an eyebrow as the girl pulled her power back a bit.
"Aw, that's all, little girl?" she said before she could help herself. She really wasn't one with instincts of self-preservation. "And here I thought you were out to kill. Pity. Got my hopes up and all."
She usually wasn't so cold in her words, but tonight they seemed to be shooting out of her. Yep, she really hated this. With another pointed look, she stepped backwards. She would not turn her back, nor did she have intention of putting herself back into the concert hall, so she just kept on going until she was out of the alley. It wasn't until she'd moved out of sight that she finally turned around and then, only when she was sure no one was watching turned into a little black cat. No need to walk home in human form, where she could easily be recognized.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 28, 2008 22:40:52 GMT -8
Beatrix's reply was a non-reply. The teenager raised an eyebrow, and, yes, it was elegant. Also, eloquent. Sort of a: hey, you're welcome to do something about it yourself... But you don't have the courage for that.
And when Marit was gone, or at least in cat form and on her way to being really and truly gone, Beatrix put a hand over her heart and closed her eyes, tightly.
Then she crouched next to Val and tried to haul him up. "You'll notice that in my conversations with vampires, I don't wind up getting my ass so thoroughly kicked," she muttered, darkly. Then, in a deep-mimicking-Val-voice: "Get in the car, Beatrix."
He was just too heavy. What could she do? She hated to do it but it looked like she'd have to call in reinforcements -- or at least Mom and Dad.
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