[M] You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave

Charity runs into Diaxio and Benjamin, and the truth comes out

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
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Writer: Raksha
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Fri Dec 07, 2018 7:06 am

30th Vortas, 2718
ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS| LATE NIGHT
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It was a beautiful evening, really it was.

Charity had been going stir crazy in the small apartment, and without her piano or some sort of distraction, whilst Rhy’s was working she would sneak out into the crisp cold evening air to just enjoy the city at night. Her thick cream cloak encompassed her small frame, and she was particularly careful to tuck away her platinum locks, even taking the time to ensure she took paths that were out of sight. For a brief moment, on this particular night, she had considered making her way to the Theatre but it was too risky. So instead, she picked a path to the Zoological Gardens.

It had been years since she’d been to the gardens, and Good Lady she’d forgotten how fascinating it was with all the caged creatures and bright vibrant flora. Finding a quiet path, Charity strolled with a small smile, vaguely paying attention to her surroundings as she marvelled how the steam of her breath caught in the moonlight, enjoying the cool breeze on her cheeks.

Something she had been unable to appreciate, for such a long long time, was the beauty around her. It had been nearly a whole two seasons since she’d taken a single dose of opioids. A whole two seasons clean, and she felt happy. Rhy’s presence, his love, as strained as things were with Gale’s revelations and presence, it was still a fantasy come true. She had loved the man for most of her life so far, and now she could embrace that love without fear. Taking a deep breath, smelling the winter florals around her, the petite woman continued her stroll until she came out the other side.

“Charity?” A familiar voice sent a sudden chill up her spine as she stopped in the all too dim lighting of the street lamps that lit the small back street that the gardens opened onto. Glancing into the darkness, the blonde swallowed her fear with a soft sigh.

“Diaxio?! Tocking hell you scared the dickens out of me! What are you doing?” Closing the gap between herself and the taller Hoxian woman, Charity laughed and hugged her warmly. The green eyed galdor smiled in surprise, hugging her tightly before stepping back to look her over.

“I’m going out solo because my best friend up and clocking well disappeared that’s what! Where in the underworld have you been? I thought maybe something happened to you during the riots, but your father said you were taken and…geez Charity…what’s going on?” Diaxio laughed, tossing her dead straight raven locks over one shoulder and crossing her arms, waiting for an answer. The woman made a face, looking around and shaking her head.

“I uh…it’s complicated. I can’t really go into it, but I’m fine. I’m happy. For the first time since, Gods since Brunnhold I am happy.” The Hoxian smiled, though it was far less warm than before, almost impatient. She rubbed her arms against the cold and looked away for a moment before coming back to the shorter woman’s face.

“That’s uh, great. That’s just great. So, if you’re here, does this mean you’ll start coming out again?” The way Diaxio emphasised the words, Charity immediately realised what she meant, her own smile fading slowly and hands disappearing into her sleeves.

“No. I’m done with all that Xi. I’ve been clean for a while now, and I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need to feel nothing, because I feel everything now. And it’s wonderful.” Scoffing, the Hoxian shook her head and screwed up her nose.

“You’re joking right? You can’t just…stop. It doesn’t work like that. The world doesn’t work like that Charity.” Tilting her head with a frown, the blonde snorted and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes I can. And I have. Surely Basil and Benjamin can live without one more slathered galdor draped at their feet.” The act of saying Benjamin’s name brought a sour taste to the woman’s mouth, and her field flexed with frustration. Diaxio tsked, running her long fingernails through her hair, her eyes narrowing.

“You had a demand Charity. People relied on you to buy big, others relied on you to deal. It’s not just about taking or having a good time. There’s a business behind it all, and you don’t just ‘stop’ because you suddenly found Alioe or some kensershit.” The Hoxian was no longer friendly with the Anaxi. Charity stepped back from the woman a little, feeling an unfamiliar slant in the brunette’s field.

“I’m not having this discussion Xi. I’m going.” Feeling concern pooling in her stomach, the petite woman turned to begin walking back the way she had come, slowing to an abrupt stop as two figures stood in her path. One was a woman, actual pistols hanging on her hips and a big wide brimmed hat covering her lanky brown hair. The other, a man, taller than she, with a familiar mop of dark hair and a slightly off kilter nose. His field was overbearing now that it wasn’t being surpressed and his grin was one of self-righteous delight. The galdor breathed his name without making a sound.

Benjamin.

“No see Charity, we are having this discussion. Because of you, things have been a bit, let’s say…off balance. There was a circle, a working functioning ebb and flow of funds and goods. If you were some wick say, maybe it wouldn’t be noticeable. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. But galdori, well we gollies buy big and spend big.” Walking to stand behind the blonde, Diaxio smirked down at the woman as she turned to face her with a look of confusion.

“Xi, what are you doing? We’re friends. We’ve been friends since third form!” The Hoxian groaned and rolled her eyes whilst Benjamin chuckled.

“No, no we haven’t. Maybe for a while we were, but then you abandoned me in fifth form for Mister Rhys Valentin! The golden boy. Then when you two fell out, you didn’t really come back. It was different after that. I found new friends, and they gave me things you could never have given me. A life, a thrilling ride. A brilliant high. Of course, in return I had to do things for them. Little things at first, sell a bit of Crop here, peddle a bit of other things there. But then, it was about finding those poor lost souls that we could use for the cause. Poor petals with no hope left, who could get just a taste of what chemical joy felt like, and would come back for more.” Charity felt tears stinging her eyes, shaking her head and bolstering her field. A click caused her to look over her shoulder, staring down the barrel of the human woman’s first pistol, dragging a helpless sigh from the galdor.

“You did this?” Diaxio grinned, nodding and checking her nails casually for dirt and grime.

“Of course I did. Who got you so plastered on your eighteenth that you could barely stand up? Who oh-so-conveniently got you lost in the Stacks? Who paid that beggar to stick a knife in your ribs? I actually didn’t mean for him to damn near kill you, but it worked right? The nurses gave you prescribed dosages to help with the pain, and I just…added a little extra when I visited. It wasn’t that hard, you were barely conscious for the most part. Once you were back on your feet, miserable and addicted, all it took was introducing you to the Theatre crowd and the rest just fell into place.” Gritting her teeth, the Captain’s daughter glared up at the Hoxian, her small hands clenched tightly. Everything, all of it, had been because of Xi. All these years, all those times she’d nearly died. Benjamin’s…

All of it.

“What do you want Diaxio?” She said softly, blinking away tears of anger and betrayal. The Hoxian nodded at the poor excuse of a man behind them, and he moved like a compliant dog to her side, drawing a vial from his pocket and handing it to the taller woman. Smiling at Charity without humor, she held it out to the blonde.

“Take it.” Violet eyes widening, the petite creature shook her head and stepped back, feeling the hard barrel of the pistol dig into her shoulder. Diaxio stepped forward, twisting the top off and holding the small glass vial in two fingers.

“Take it, and get back to work. Or I kill you here and now.” Swallowing hard, the blonde looked down at the innocent looking container, her resolve wavering and pleading with the woman she’d thought was her friend.

“Xi please. I don’t want to. I’m clean now. Please don’t make me do this.” The woman’s green eyes flicked to the gun woman, who moved her gun to press against the back of the galdor’s skull, causing Charity to let a small sob escape her lips as she reached to take the Crop with a trembling hand. Diaxio waved her hand with encouragement, indicating the blonde needed to drink up.

“What happens when I do? What then?” The Hoxian’s smile widened into a sinister grin.

“Well, then you go and have the best fucking high of your life and probably screw the brains out of loverboy—yes your Daddy told me about Rhys being back on the scene. Just couldn’t stay away right? The doomed lovers, what a sob story. Anyway, once you come down, you’ll want it again. You’ll need it again. And you can come find me, you know where I am Charity. We’ll do business again, and you’ll be a good little dog.” The blonde sobbed, staring at the vial in her hand, desperate not to let it touch her lips. Benjamin laughed, stepping forward to stroke a gentle finger down her arm.

“Or you can come and have some fun with me, yeah? Really really keen to finish what we started that night Charity. I’m sure it’s better than—” Charity snapped her arm away from him, her face a mask of disgust. Diaxio waved at him with annoyance, coming another step closer to the smaller woman and putting her fingertips under the bottom of the vial to push it closer to her mouth.

“Don’t even think of letting that Seventen know any of this, not a word of it. If you so much as breathe it, I will make sure you disappear for good. Do you understand Charity? It’s not a game, this isn’t some neat little tale you can go tell Rhys so he comes riding in to save the day. You can buy and sell, without taking if you must, but if you stop again…if you try and come ‘clean’ again…then I’ll let Benjamin finish what he started and leave you in the aquaducts to rot like a piece of meat too old for market. Now, bottoms up Charity!” The Hoxian helped guide her hand, tilting the small sip of liquid into the D’Arthe’s mouth, whilst Charity trembled with anger and shock and fear. She swallowed with a gagging sound, stomach churning as she turned to wretch into the grass, sobbing when nothing came up. It was too late now, it would already be seeping into the small blood vessels in her throat and stomach. Straightening, she glared at Diaxio with red rimmed eyes and a clenched jaw. The Hoxian took the empty vial, licking the rim with a smile, before tucking it away in her pocket. From behind her, the pistol was removed, and Benjamin moved to rest his hands on her shoulders heavily, his breath too hot in her ear.

“That’s a good girl. Did you want an escort back home? I could…come and keep you company.” Charity tore away from him, her violet eyes glittering with horror and disgust.

“Get away from me you clock stopper.” Already, the opium had begun to ooze through her veins, giving her a strange sense of broken depth perception. She stumbled back from the trio, reaching up to hold a hand against one of the bare winter branches of the trees that dressed the gates by the exit. Diaxio watched the blonde, her hands now deep in her pockets.

“Off you pop Charity. I’ll be waiting for you at the Theatre.” The woman’s voice followed her as she turned to flee into the gardens, Benjamin’s laughter chasing her heels.

“Gods, Gods, Gods.” Charity whispered to herself as she ran along the path, heart racing in her chest and drugs pumping through her body at speed. Her vision wavered and wobbled, and she held her hands out as she passed by the plants and cages. Breaking into the street, the blonde staggered, slowing to a walk and leaning against the stone wall of the nearest building. Pressing her head back against the cold stone, she closed her eyes and whined a soft cry. The world was a spinning, tilting mess, and her body had begun to feel like she was floating. Dragging herself from the wall, Charity stumbled along the cobblestone road, desperate to get back to the apartment before she completely lost her senses.

The familiar shape of the dsoh shop was a welcome relief, causing the blonde to cry out with delight. She grabbed for the hand rail of the stairs that led to Rhy’s home, tripping on the first step and holding herself up on hands and knees. Clamouring to shaky feet, the pianist crawled her way up the staircase, dragging herself upright and tugging keys from her pocket. It took many goes to get the key in the hole, turn the lock and fall into the apartment. Picking up the keys where they’d fallen to the floor, Charity kicked the door shut behind her, laying on the hardwood and panting. She felt a million miles above her body, and so suddenly light and carefree. Laughing softly, the blonde unclasped her cloak, shrugging out of it where she lay. Good Lady it was hot in here. It reminded her of Gales forge. She laughed again. Gale, she looked just like her brother. Rhys. Rhys was her brother. The galdor wasn’t a galdor.

“Bells and chimes, gotta get up.” The heavily intoxicated woman muttered to no one, kicking off her boots and climbing to her feet with great difficulty. Once upright, she began to strip out of the fine high throated mauve dress she’d worn, pausing to turn the lock in the door before letting the fabric pool at her feet. Stepping out of the material, she walked through the lounge, removing her undergarments along the way with a languid almost ostalike liquid grace. Entering the hallway, Charity bumped hard into the wall, laughing and reaching to pat the inanimate object gently.

“Sorry.” She apologised with a giggle, before dragging her hands through her loose platinum locks and striding naked as the day she was born into Rhy’s bedroom. Her field ebbed and pulsed, porven with the effects of the Crop. Jynx chirruped at her at his spot on the linens, rapidly jumping away as the petite creature fell into the bed. Groaning, she rolled and wriggled, moving up to the pillows and tucking one under her head. Across pale skin, goosebumps rose in defiance to the chill that filled the unheated room, but the blonde burned up. By the Lady she was on fire.

Kicking away all the blankets and sheets, the unclothed woman rolled on her belly, curling a leg under her with a sigh. Her eyelids felt heavy, oh so very very heavy. She hummed something under her breath, a sonnet of some sort, drifting further and further into a state of drugged unconsciousness. It had been frightening at first, and horrible, and unwanted.

But oh, it felt good. It felt so deliriously good.


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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Topics: 42
Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Sat Dec 08, 2018 12:02 pm

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Somewhere Safe? | evening
30 Vortas 2718
“Anaxas follows one of two major legal traditions: common law or civil law. The former emerged over half a millennia ago, and was applied to settlements and colonies across the continent. Common law holds no comprehensive compilation of legal rules and statutes, relyin' on legislative decisions based on pre-ce-dent – meanin' the jud-i-cial decision are based on precedent based on similar cases,” The smith spoke as they read aloud, “These same precedents are main-taine-d over time through court records and historically documented in collections of case law. Precedent to be applied in the decision of each new case is de-ter-mined by the presidin' judge.”

The smith was lounged across the couch, upright against the arm and shoulders hunched in. The book, ‘An Introduction to Common Law and Civil Traditions of Anaxas’ was propped up against bent knees. It was evening, the smith registered that much with the lazy glance to the windows – a thin fog traced its way across the panes, masking the immediate outside world. The Osta released a chirp, tail high as it worked its way around the small apartment on its patrol. They paid it little mind. Charity had disappeared off some time ago, believing herself as ‘sneaking out’ while Rhys was not present – the smith merely raised an eyebrow but said nothing. There was little point, Charity was their own person and could do whatever they wanted. Gale was merely an unfortunate guest. One who was not begrudging the hospitality; it certainly was a better state than what would have other wise awaited them.

Besides, it meant they could read in peace without the question of legality being thrown their way.

A small inhale, the smith felt the stitches tighten in their sides. A discomfort that eased when the right hand pressed against them. The left was less willing to cooperate, currently resting in the belt sling they had made to support it. Minimise strain on the left shoulder they said, keep it immobilized and rested they said; otherwise it would take longer to heal. A dozen or so days would be a minimum, but even then the smith knew movement after would be limited. Months would have to pass by before they could put it back to proper use.

The pain was the worse part, that ache that throbbed in the background; yet the moment any movement occurred it would rapidly multiply, sharp and hiss worthy. The smith frequently swore at it, not out of anger but instead out of release. It was the only coping mechanism they would allow for themselves, the other options merely made the smith feel sick – or was sick on the time they attempted to consume alcohol. The body was broken, it needed time to heal and intoxication was not an option.

“As such, Common Law functions as an adver- adver-sar-i-al system, where two parties contest before a moderating judge. A jury of of people without legal trainin' decide on the facts of the case, before a judge then determines the app-ro-pri-ate sentence based on the jury’s verdict,” Gale yawned and turned the page.

Being clean was an unusual state of existence; the dark stains had been stubbornly scrubbed out of the clothing, the tears awkwardly stitched closed. Boots were kicked off, the coat was still drying after its third soak – the smith reasoned it would still show the marks of the twenty seventh. More unusual was not being bound, the chest was given the small mercy of breathing without the usual restraint. The Osta had moved back around to the couch now, pausing at the side of Gale as it stared with its one eye. Gale blinked back at it.

“Aye?” They watched the eye move from the human to the book, “What ye want? Oh, right. Readin’. Anywho.” It huffed and stalked off to Rhys’ bedroom. The smith continued, “Civil law is cod-eye-fied. The legal codes are regulary updated and list all matters that are capable of being brought before a court, to go through the pro-ce-dure and then receive appropriate punishment for each off-ense. These codes form the different categories of law: for example those subject to criminal or civil prosecu-”

It was the clicking of the lock at the door that caused Gale to pause. Warily looking over in the general direction, they gave a flinch when the door shut. The building seemed to shudder with it, the smith tensing. Who was it? Was it Rhys? Charity? If it was one or the other they normally called out in some form – least from Gale’s own experience. The low moan escaped, the locking of the door, lighter movements registering on the ears.

Another bump. Green orbs blinked, a momentarily tilt of the head in confusion as the form of Charity crossed the threshold of the lounge. Following, the lips parted as if to say something and faltered. Cheeks tinted pink, shoulders stiffening as the revealed flesh exposed itself. The head continued to follow, even as the Galdor continued on past – completely nude by this point – and left a trail of clothing behind them in their wake. Non-fussed by the fact that the sibling of her lover was in the room, the loud laughter echoing as it bounced off the walls and disappeared into the bedroom. Gale was granted no opportunity to get a word out.

The eyes lowered, looking down to the trail of clothing and then to the creating noise of Jynx as it emerged once more from the bedroom. Removed from the chosen throne, it went back on the prowl for a suitable comfortable space.

The image replayed in their mind.

Charity was incredibly naked.

The smith closed the book.

Silent, their brow fixed into a line, they eased themselves upright. A leg swung off, they placed the book down onto the couch. They would remember the page, they were not that far in. Awkwardly they stood, swaying on the spot as the blood rushed to their head. The shoulder gave a complaint, gravity tugging the arm down and in return the rest of the stitches; the smith looped the arm back into the sling at that point, easing the pain. Cheeks puffed, following on down the hallway – the mind mentally going through the procedures.

Intoxicated. Drunk? No. It was not that kind of walk. Spiked? Hurt? Where have I seen this similar before? Drug of some form? I thought Charity was no longer partaking? Has something happened? What changed? When? Sometime in the last… hour? Two hours?

Gale had little experience with narcotics, but that did not mean they were ignorant to their workings. They took time to work, to settle into the system. Which lead to the question as to why Charity came home while still under the effects?

Kneeling, the smith sighed and gingerly lifted the dropped undergarments. Their cheeks flushed an even deeper shade as they began to awkwardly tidy up, “What wee mess is it this time?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
Joined: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:06 pm
Topics: 19
Race: Wick
Location: Vienda
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Sun Dec 09, 2018 2:14 pm

30th of Vortas, 2718
HOME | TOO LATE AGAIN
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"Captain Haines, this is the last of my evidence to submit. These are the reports from the Healer's physical assessment made in Yaris, finally signed and ready for review." Rhys set the last stack of papers packed neatly into a folder onto the older man's desk, peering at his superior from behind his glasses, expression haggard and weary. He was exhausted and it showed in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his face was unshaven, and the way his usually eloquently unkempt hair simply looked more obviously untamed than fashionable today.

His Captain thumbed through the papers, glancing at the signatures and the notations that indicated where bruising had been with a deadpan look on his face even though his tone was gruff and sour, "This is going to get thrown out of court, Valentin. You know that, don't you? This is just a civil case. If you really want to bust Damen's chops, you need to aim bigger."

"With all due respect sir, the nature of the man's character with his own family should be revealing of his lack of professionalism outside of the house."

"No one clocking cares about his character, Sergeant. No one but you—" Arthur saw the words forming on the younger man's tongue before he even spoke him, his eyes narrowing even as he saw Rhys' jaw clench and lips curl. It seemed as though he could feel the heat that smoldered in the tall blond's narrow chest, the fire that burned so desperately there for a justice he couldn't get just the way he wanted despite his training and his uniform, for a justice that had no mercy when it came to emotions, "—Now, wait a minute. I care, I do. Don't accuse me otherwise, either. I'm in the same uniform as you and you know I have the same suspicions. But this?" Fingers tapped the pile of documents Rhys had worked so damn hard to compile in the most meticulous of legal enthusiasms, "This won't get anyone the proper punishment that rotten bastard deserves."

"I'm not stoping until that happens, Captain, and I don't mean just Damen. My desk—"

"—is full of evidence that you're just chasing rabbits." Rhys' state of mind lately worried Arthur because it felt like he'd been unraveling since Yaris, and his persistent need for what he perceived as truth was exactly what the Captain of the Investigative Division was afraid of in this moment because it was dangerous in how brightly it seemed to burn within the young man, "I don't know what's going on in your life other than what's here in this folder between you and Charity, but you're not the galdor I awarded four snaps two years ago lately. You're all over the place, and I'm a little concerned about the choices you've been making after the Riot—"

"—but, Sir. He would have killed her—" He wasn't a galdor at all, let alone the man who'd become the youngest Sergeant in the Investigative Division. Rhys was something else, someone else, it was true, but he couldn't even admit to that out loud, not now, not here, and not to his own Captain.

"—that's not what I'm talking about. Rhys, you need to get your shit together. I can't clocking cover for all your mess. Let's see where this case gets us, alright? I want you to have my back on the Oculus, and we both know Damen's gotta have his hand in the cookie jar somewhere. I need you here, in uniform, doing your clocking job ... not out in the street chasing vigilante justice like some hooligan. Do you understand me, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Captain. I'm sorry." The tall blond sighed, pursing his lips and squaring his shoulders, reaching up to loosen the collar of his uniform.

"Good. Now, go home, Rhys. Get some rest. The hearing begins in Achtus, and from the looks of things, you've got plenty of other ersehats you should be arresting in the meantime."

"I do. Good night, Arthur." With that, the young not-galdor swallowed all the words he could have said, burying the helplessness and frustration that writhed in the narrow cavity of his chest to fake a smile. He slipped his glasses from his face and tucked them into the pocket of his coat, pausing at his desk to shove two files into his oiled leather bag and snuff out the sputtering oil lantern in his small office, locking the door behind him and offering the older man still at his desk one more wave before he headed out into the chilly evening, already far later than he'd originally hoped to head home.

It wasn't until he was half way home that his long day caught up with him, the scents wafting from restaurants and cafes, from taverns and pubs reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast and that he'd probably have to cook when he got home for more than just himself, considering his modest flat above a dsoh shop in Kingsway Market had become a halfway house for battered women and an awkward social experiment in racial equality. But it wasn't at all as bad as it sounded, at least in Rhys' mind.

If his blue eyes lingered through the foggy glass of the restaurant he lived above, feeling the rumble of his stomach and hearing the ringing in his left ear that refused to entirely fade, it was only because he was totally coming back downstairs in a few moments for dinner. Fuck cooking.

Up the stairs by twos, Rhys fumbled for his keys while he tested the door with his free hand, finding it unlocked and shoving his way in, never entirely sure what to expect to see greeting him upon his homecoming anymore, not with Charity and Gale cozily tucked into his once glorious bachelor pad. There was a difference between what had become his norm and what sight greeted him as he stepped into his threshold and shut the door behind him, already beginning to tug off his boots with the very first hints of a smile creasing into his sharp features—

Instead of the expression ever reaching fruition, however, it sort of stopped in the middle, broken by the strange vision of the human he'd come to know as his sister, flitting about his living area, hands full of unmentionables he was very aware belonged to Charity.

Now, as far as he knew it wasn't laundry day, though for a hitched breath and a confused look of embarrassed shock, the blond Sergeant seriously let his mind wander through the dates of the calendar in order to make sure he knew exactly what today was. Besides, Gale was injured and it certainly wasn't their responsibility to worry about their own clothes while they were here, let alone Charity's. In that heartbeat of feeling upsidedown, his mind wandered far lower places when he exhaled, not at all missing the young smith's blush.

The Seventen blinked, licking suddenly dry lips while his bag slipped off his sagging shoulders with a thump, shrugging off his uniform coat by muscle memory instead of actual conscious thought,

"Shit." He hissed, not needing to be told what the sinking sensation of falling that replaced the original wrench of shock meant because he already knew, standing there in his foyer unable to move for another moment before he finally staggered into the room and reached for every piece of fancy lack of fabric in the human's hands, blurting with such forced humor that he couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the end of it all, attempting to convince himself that any of his logical and illogical conclusions were at all funny, "Exciting evening, huh? No one was going to clocking invite me, I see." Blue eyes narrowed in self-deprecating accusation but not maliciousness, a creeping awareness twisting in his gut and making him want to whine instead of form words but he forced them out anyway,

"I'll just—I'll take this—I'll go—uh—check on things. Yep. Then, dinner. After. This. Damn. Yeah—I'll—mmhmm. Excuse me—I'm sorry. Noodles, maybe? Anyway, let me just—well, I'll just go—go—erm—return these."

Clutching at everything as if he was grasping for some semblance of sanity, dress floofing ridiculously into his face because of how quickly he snatched it up from the floor, he cast a nervous glance from over expensive fabric at the pile of books still on his table next to the couch, books he knew the smith had been reading even if he'd been the one to bring them home for his own edification. Dodging Jynx who took this very moment to decide she absolutely needed to weave herself between his legs and shower him with affection as if the one-eyed osta had decided he needed all the encouragement he could handle, Rhys made a hasty, awkward escape through the living room and down the hall toward his room without another word.

Hands full, he shut the door to his room with his foot and leaned against the wooden surface, staring at the unconscious, naked form of his delicate pianist sprawled out on the bed they shared, a vision that would have, any other night without unusual guests or unusual circumstances, filled him with much more alluring excitement than nervous trepidation.

A heat crawled around the base of his skull, dripping down his spine like hot magma, but it wasn't the rush of arousal so much as the twisted warmth of concern. Setting her things down at the foot of the bed and curling fingers into his pale green shirt to untuck it from his dark green uniform trousers, still crisp from a day spent almost entirely at his desk instead of out on the streets, Rhys knelt against his bed and ran fingers over the familiar curve of Charity's back, up between her shoulder blades, through loose, platinum locks to brush the back of his hand against her cheek, lingering there in the hopes she'd stir,

"Hey, lover. I'm home. Are you—uh—alright?"
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Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
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Sun Dec 09, 2018 8:49 pm

30th Vortas, 2718
ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS| LATE NIGHT
The whole world was one big soft colorful cloud of sights and sounds, floating and spinning, twisting and dancing in and out of her mind and assaulting her senses. Charity lay undressed, sprawled on the bed, eyes closed with pillow tucked underhead as she cartwheeled headfirst into the unwanted trip. She was not so much asleep, as not there, and as the door to the room closed behind the Seventen the drugged galdor didn’t even register it.

She was not in Rhys bed, or even in the house. Charity was running through the darkness, past gnarled trees and horrific beasts screeching at her from behind their cages, her legs aching as though running through thick mud. It was hot, Alioe it was so hot, she couldn’t breathe. Behind her, they chased. Huge gargantuan monsters with long arms and bright yellow eyes and huge teethy smiles. One in the shape of a woman, the other a man, familiar and yet not. Behind them both a shadowy figure loomed, its huge fist raising high. As she ran, the male reached out to stroke his hand up her back, a feather light touch that followed up her spine and across her shoulder blades into her hair.

Hey there lover… The snippet of a voice, far away and yet so very close to her ear, dragged the blonde out of the intoxicated dream state into the real world. In her addled mind the voice was slower, deeper. It was the voice of the monster brushing her cheek. It was Benjamin’s voice. Her eyes snapped open with a gasp, body in immediate fight mode, throwing herself back from the presence beside the bed with an unsteady roll.

“No get away!” She cried out in a slurred voice, holding herself on one elbow, staring through platinum strands with her hand raised as her mind pulled together the familiar shape of a face and strawberry blonde locks. Reaching up, Charity pushed her hair out of the way and rolled onto her back with a long relieved sigh and a dreamy laugh, heart stammering in her chest.

“Oh Gods, it’s Rhys. It’s just my Rhys. I thought it was him, but its not. It’s just you.” Rolling back on her stomach, Charity dragged herself towards the edge of the bed where the taller man knelt, reaching for his face and kissing him with a slow and lingering movement.

“Mmm you’re home. I missed you. Come here, come to bed with me.” Her hands drifted to his shirt, tugging on his garments to try and wrangle the man into the sheets with her, struggling to her knees as she did so.

“I’m fine, just fine. Now. Now I’m fine. But it’s hot Rhys. It’s so clocking hot. How are you not hot?” The petite pianist leaned down to brush her lips across his throat, fingers working on his buttons to disappear across the soft warm skin that she found underneath with a languid groan of delight before she simply hugged his chest and pressed her cheek against it.

“Mmm you’re so nice and cool. So nice.” A flash of Diaxio’s face appeared in the shadows of the room, a hallucination of a memory, causing the pale creature to jerk back and shake her head.

“I can’t do this, I can’t…this isn’t me anymore. This isn’t fair. It’s not fair!” Pushing a hand through her hair again, Charity tried to climb off the side of the bed, falling ungracefully onto the hard wood floor before standing up. She wavered, stumbling to lean against the wall and look at Rhys with a genuine flash of fear and a brief moment of clear thought.

“I didn’t do this Rhys, I promise. I promise I didn’t but…I…it’s…you…” Frowning, she looked down at herself, arms crossing her chest protectively before she glanced up at the man through fallen tresses.

“Where are my clothes? Why…how…clocking hell it’s so hot. I need a bath. Or…something. It’s so clock stopping hot.” Pushing off the wall, the blonde staggered, faltering as she tried to make a beeline to the door that was so close, and yet seem so far away. Leaning towards Rhys instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck with a slow sultry smile and a laugh, her entire person draped on the Seventen.

“Mmm…hello lover. You have…far too much clothing.” Pressing her lips against his mouth, his cheek, his jaw Charity hummed another soft sound as she pushed her pianists fingers into his hair to curl against his scalp.

“We can be quiet, Gale is probab—” Stopping dead in her tracks, the blonde drew back with wide eyes as her mind retraced her steps. Through the doorway, through the lounge, into the bedroom.

Through the lounge.

That’s where her clothes were.

“Oh my Gods.” She whispered, tears springing to her eyes and a sob esaping before she could press a hand over her mouth. The small woman sat down heavily on the side of the bed, moving her hand to cover her eyes.

“Oh shit. Gale. I didn’t do this.” Looking up at Rhys with a tearful, unfocused face as she removed her hand, Charity shook her head.

“I didn’t do this Rhys, I promise. You have to believe me.” Her violet gaze drifted to a point on the floor, staring blankly into nothing before finally her eyes rolled closed again. It was so very hard to stay upright as the drugs continued on their vicious journey. She'd not used for so long, that having the whole vial at once was dangerous. It was overwhelming. Her hands gripped the mattress beside her, holding the petite creature upright.

“I can't breathe, its so hot Rhys. I feel like my skin is on fire...I can't...I'm sorry I shouldn't...have left. I shouldn't have...”

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Gale
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: Artful Gunner
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Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:50 am

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Somewhere Safe? | evening
30 Vortas 2718
It was the click of the door that made Gale pause, the slow turning of the handle as the shape of one Sergeant Rhys Valentin graced it. The human froze, stuck mid-bend with a fist full of underwear cheeks turning from a pink to a red. Ears burned, eyes staring back as raw instinct prickled, “This isn’t… no. No. No. No. No!

A rabbit caught in torchlight, that moment where prey was stuck in fear and were awaiting the shot. Even as the bag slumped to the ground the smith did not move, every muscle coiling as it was stuck between flight and fight. The smith stared up at him with large eyes – still hunched over -, most of them having slunk into their shoulders. Lips were in a line, a thin slit allowing them to breathe as he began to reach for them. They threw the garments at him, rapidly surrendering them. Gale blurted out, “Brunnos’foretumblos!”

It was the best they could think of in such a short amount of time.

Awkward enough as it was, they watched the man they called brother snatch the rest of the discarded clothing, their finger pointing back towards the front door. The mouth moved, a croak of noise escaping as they gestured. It was too late, the man was already gone with the sound of the bedroom being closed off. Pausing, they listened to the chirps of the osta as it took a seat next to them. Gale looked down at it, managing to make themselves uncurl while bare toes rubbed at the arch of their other foot.

What?

They blinked; looking back to the way the pair of magic users went. Soft voice, a mumble that caught their ears.

I think I should go? Maybe?

The yelp gave them pause.

Gingerly touching the ground, the feet slunk across the way, gently creaking. They paused in the hallway, head turning to hear better. They knew exactly what it looked like, but it was a territory Gale had little interest in crossing – or perhaps more correctly was a threshold they were unsure how to contend with. Laughter came next; the smith paused as the words crept out between the gaps of this home. Perhaps they should leave, or step outside to give them some privacy.

Feet however refused to behave and the smith found themselves stuck there with a perverse sense of curiosity. Pulse quickened, the once dreamy voice snatching between reality and desire. The clunk of a mass against the floor, the moaning picking up into frustration. Sexual, Gale guessed – given by the other noises and the lack of visual context. Not that exactly wanted any currently. The situation was awkward enough as it was without the addition of potentially becoming a voyeur.

Mentioning of their name however caused the smith to turn. Floor boards creaked as they crept away, feeling the hairs rise from the approaching wrath. Even as the explanation came, a chorus of noise chased after the smith as they made a tactical retreat towards the small kitchen space of the apartment – snatching up their chosen reading book in the process.

Away from what was to come but still acutely aware of the thin walls, it was with nervous hands the smith busied themselves, growing use to the faucets found within the Kingsway – a seeming luxury the smith was unsure they should get used to. Gentle clunks and rummaging, the smith went through the process of boiling a kettle of water. A nervous, loudly hummed tune escaped cups clattering as they did the motions of making tea. Aggressively chewing their lip, the smith locked their eyes on the current page in a desperate attempt to drown the rest of the world out.

Fuck. Shit. Crap. Bollocks. Okay. Breathe. When he comes out explain to him. If he’ll listen? Will he?

Gale was not sure how long they were staring at the page, but it was the whistling kettle that drew their attention. A sharp piercing noise that made them wince. Grimacing they took it off the heat, and with the better arm they awkwardly began to pour it. A nervous voice released a moan, a nervous whine that slid between the cracks and crept across the hallway, “Uh… tea… anyone? At all? Hello?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
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Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:34 pm

30th of Vortas, 2718
HOME | TOO LATE AGAIN
Gale may as well have been a deer caught in lantern light on some dark country road of his childhood, the poor human obviously unsuspectingly tossed into a situation they hadn't ever planned or asked for. Had he at all been any more prepared than the smith was, perhaps Rhys would have found some part of the flinging of undergarments and jumbled words humorous, but as it was, he wasn't at all prepared and he wasn't at all capable of dealing with any of what had transpired before his arrival.

He at least made it down his hall. He at least made it into his room. He at least had the presence of mind to shut the door. That was, truly, the limit of his ability to fall into expectation and be at all a good host, however.

No longer ignorant of Charity's history of addiction in the vacuum left behind when their friendship became forbidden, the Sergeant had, for the most part, weathered the rocky path of her sudden sobriety as well as could be expected, mostly because they'd been traveling for so much of it that it had been made strangely more bearable than usual with the blur of new scenery and the confines of small carriages.

Weeks had gone by now and in his idealist naiveté and general distraction, perhaps the tall not-galdor had simply assumed such things were behind them both, especially when under the shadow of so many other large, monstrous issues threatening to tear them apart, from her disgusting bastard of a father to his own now unavoidably tarnished heritage, from the young human in his living room to his own blatant, purposeful breaking of Seventen code. Could he really handle this all over again?

Rhys withdrew his hand as if his delicate pianist had bit him, her sudden surprise and fear something he probably should have expected but was far too foolish to calculate into his equation in the moment. In the series of reactions that followed, a sickening weight settled in the young Valentin's stomach and wrenched his insides with surety—a strange paradox when paired with the sort of desires her naked form couldn't help but stir within him:

Charity was very high.

"Of course it's me—him—who—him who?—Him?!—Wait—" He couldn't entirely help it, blue eyes wandering over the very bare and very attractive landscape of skin that was now so familiar, moving too slowly to stop the blonde galdor from reaching for him, unwilling to stop her lips from finding his. Inhaling sharply, their fields mingled in such comfortable vicinity and he was reminded of just how guilty he was of indulging shamelessly in sharing in the effects of her otherwise illegal and destructive habits. He'd certainly enjoyed it all on more than one occasion, but the harm in it all could no longer be ignored. He'd not said no to such things, not once, and yet this time somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to now more than ever. Her fingers curled into his clothes, desperate to pull him closer while he lingered, eyelids fluttering heavily as his hands moved not to intercept hers but wander over the warm body he knew too well fit just so with his, desperate to grab her attention so as to divert his own,

"I can't—I want to—yes—oh, please, yes—no—wait—stop—not right now—listen—"

Tilting his head at the brush of lips over the accelerating tempo of his pulse, he let her toy with buttons and sighed, managing to pull some syllables together and attempt another objection,

"Charity—I'm sober, that's why—" The delicate creature pulled away as if in surprise, not at all focused on him for a moment, and his knees felt like gelatin while his mind spun and he simply wasn't fast enough to stop her from sliding off the bed or hitting the floor, suddenly caught between what he wanted and what he knew he should be doing ... well, he'd been caught in that mess for months now.

He hissed, moving to reach for her as well as block her steps toward the door, "You didn't do this? How could you not? This sort of thing doesn't just accidentally happen, Charity—"

Rhys managed to intercept her movement to leave the room, only to forget whatever else he had to say in a rough exhale, warm, pale skin against him and fingers meandering into his hair. Good Lady, high or not, she was a distracting thing and for just a few moments longer, the tall Seventen let his questions and concern smolder and burn heatedly in the cavity of his chest while the petite blonde's lips wandered downward to where she'd not finished unfastening the buttons of his pale green uniform shirt. He traced palms over delicate curves as if he was going to lift the small galdor, as if he had every intention of pressing her against the door while in his arms and continuing to travel whatever path this would take them, there, right there, in his room, utterly uncaring of their horrified audience just down the hall.

It was just as he considered giving entirely into where Charity would have so willingly led him and where he would have otherwise willingly followed, body quite staunchly refusing to listen to his mind for just a few more delicious heartbeats, when he heard Gale's name from the delicate pianist and he realized a moment of clarity had dawned in the very intoxicated woman who'd done a plum perfect job of thoroughly flustering his sense of focus and resolve,

"Gale is here. Yes. Gale has seen too much. Yes. We will deal with that—I will deal with that—in a minute—I, shit. You—You didn't do what? Take your clothes off? Get high? I'm confused. I'm not following. I can't keep up. All of those things. You've been clean for so long, Charity, I didn't expect—I didn't think—clock it all, you need to tell me what happened so I can help you." He moved closer, one hand moving to steady the shorter, lighter galdor by holding her against him while his other hand reached for the pile of her clothing he'd dumped at the foot of his bed, sorting through things and laying them on the messy sheets she'd just been sprawled over in a reasonable order for dressing.

It was with obvious reluctance that he offered to help her at least put something—anything!—back on, touch lingering where it shouldn't and eyes wandering while a heat crawled under his skin and parts of his body wrestled with his heart not to entirely respond to the situation in all the most inconvenient of ways, aware that he would have happily indulged the moment just in the misguided name of keeping Charity safe from harm together in his bed. Instead, he was going in the opposite direction, helping put undergarments back on and tugging one of his spare shirts over her head, fingers fumbling over buttons he knew how to fasten while his thoughts strangled the breath from his lungs. He couldn't be ersed to help with a dress, if only because he was far more skilled at taking Charity's expensive taste in clothing off, not putting it back on. Her petite self swam in his clothing anyway, and so it would just have to do for convenience sake.

"Gods, what happened? Why would you do this? Now of all times? Did you leave the house? Fuck it—how high are you? I can perhaps metabolize some of it with magic, I just—" Rhys was gathering his field, ignoring what kind of wild state he was in, stopping yet another sentence when he heard Gale's voice in the hall, faint and traumatized,

"Yes. Tea! Water, too! Is there ice? I can't remember if there is ice! Just—uhhhhhhhh—errrrrrrrm—give us a minute—please? Thank you!" Rhys bit his lip, aware of how that all sounded to someone who'd seen his high as a kite, ever so lovely delicate pianist strip and flee into his bedroom only to also watch the tall Seventen flee in the same direction. There were all sorts of assumptions to be made, all of which the young Valentin would have eagerly entertained and made good on right here, right now, had everything not been so fucking upside down.

He groaned, leaning his forehead against Charity's in a moment of vertigo-reminiscent overwhelm, closing his eyes before he pressed lips gently to her too hot forehead and wrapped arms around her too hot body, biting back the admission that this sensation of helplessness suddenly felt so very fatal. Gods, he could have just drowned in it.

There was a human in his living room, in his kitchen, in his flat. She'd been reading books on his property probably without a writ to do so, healing from injuries mysteriously incurred by strangers threatening their person and their identity which he'd willingly intervened upon in utter selfish disregard to his duties and his training. The woman he loved was near-incoherent and high after weeks of sobriety, and by the feel of things, perhaps on the edge of having taken too much of whatever it was she was on. He was in the process of gathering evidence to persecute a superior officer of the Seventen for both her protection and, in his not so humble opinion, the protection of the Kingdom of Anaxas. He had no idea if he was coming or going, walking or falling, sane or absolutely out of his fucking mind.

He'd at least managed to dress the delicate pianist in something, blinking at her as he leaned away, "Water for you, I think, and once you tell me what in the name of Alioe has happened, I will figure out the rest."

Rhys didn't even invite her to get up so much as scoop her from the bed and curl her against him, wanting to press his cheek against her forehead in thought as he turned back towards his bedroom door, feeling just how warm her body was and concerned for however much of whatever it was she'd taken.

He could have waited for Gale to announce just as awkwardly that they were done with tea or hidden in his room until they came knocking to fetch him, but those both just felt like entirely the wrong ideas. Being alone with the delicate pianist would only lead one direction at this moment—not that he wouldn't have complained anyway. Bringing Charity out to the living room risked so much social ridiculousness, but the tall Seventen didn't feel he had any other options,

"C'mon, lover, let's get you some water and you can tell me what, exactly, clocking happened today, alright?" Rhys whispered before he led them both out of his room and into the hall, past a curious osta with her one eye warily watching them stagger by. Not ignorant of his tousled hair nor his state of attempted undress, not ignorant of the disheveled, only partially dressed creature he carried, the tall not-galdor made his way as far as his sofa, half-heartedly shoving books with a foot to sit roughly, quite bent on all but holding the petite blonde captive until he knew what was going on.

It was difficult to look for his human sister, to meet her gaze, his blue eyes full of chagrin and nervousness, uncomfortable at such an audience despite the full knowledge that this wasn't the first time Gale had encountered Charity high. While it wasn't shame, there was something akin to it sharpening the edges of his field and the tone of his voice. The young smith was injured and making tea. He was a helpless thing in this moment, waiting for his chance to mutter apologies while at the same time eager for some kind of explanation that even remotely made sense.
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Charity Valentin
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: The voices aren't real, right?
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Mon Dec 17, 2018 7:29 am

30th Vortas, 2718
ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS| LATE NIGHT
Charity shook her head with a soft whine of frustration and protest as Rhys snapped at her, unhelpfully pushing at the clothing he attempted to dress her in at first. As too cool hands brushed far too hot skin, the dangerously high galdor’s whine turned into a sigh, tugging him closer to whisper her lips over his own as her hands sought the skin beneath his shirt. The first undergarment was on even as she nibbled at his jaw, falling back on the bed with a far away laugh as the lower garment was reapplied. Lifting her hips, the violet eyed pianist looked at him under heavy lids, her lip caught between her teeth and arch of her body far too sensual for putting on the clothing.

“You’re doing it wrong. The clothes come off, not on.” She complained when he encouraged her to stand up again, getting lost in the shirt for a moment before popping out the top with another giggle. Reaching for his cheek with a hand that disappeared under the sleeve of the garment, Charity kissed his throat, before pulling back. She frowned and shook her head.

“I didn’t do this but, I didn’t! I took a walk, the Zoological Gardens are so pretty right now. All red and orange and so pretty. But I didn’t do this. It—” Her breath hitched suddenly, eyes rolling shut with a half-hearted sob.

“Can’t tell you. Not you Rhys. How high? Too much, too much high. It was too much already. But I didn’t do it. They—no I'm not. I can't.” She felt his field gathering, welcoming the magic even though she knew the wick was still over spent from far too much casting. Far to much for a wick. Far too much. Opening her eyes at the sound of Gale’s voice, the pale creature sighed at the press of lips against her forehead and the arms around her, leaning into him with a hum.

“Water yes. I want water.” Charity mumbled, a ragdoll in his arms as he scooped her up, struggling to lift her head and rest it against his chest as they moved from the lovely comfortable darkness of his room back into the too warm lounge. As they settled on the couch, the woman lifted her head, looking at Rhys on the verge of tears. She was fighting the overwhelming intoxication of the vial, such a small dose for an experienced addict, too much for a restarting one. Her field pulsed and dampened, as though wobbling on its own axis, and her pupils were heavily dilated.

Don’t even think of letting that Seventen know any of this, not a word of it. If you so much as breathe it, I will make sure you disappear for good.

“I’m not thinking it. I’m not breathing it. I’m not.” She said in a broken voice, searching his face, seeing the disappointment and frustration there. It hurt, even with the drugs making things so deliciously pointless, her heart ached with the knowledge that she had failed her Rhys. In his eyes, she had let him down. The thought tugged a sob from the Captains daughter, her mind unclear and muddled.

“I didn’t take it, I didn’t want to take it. I just wanted to see Vienda for a little while. It’s been so long, since I’ve seen it…clean. I’m clean, I’m clean Rhys I am. I am. I didn’t want to! I didn’t want to! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, I can’t. I can’t. Don't hate me, please don't hate me. I love you so much, but—” Looking for Gale, the blonde pleaded with him, her eyes desperate.

“I can’t tell him Gale. I can’t! Tell him!” As quickly as the brief moment of clarity came, it drifted out of reach again with a groan of fear. The trip was not fun anymore, it was disorientating and unfamiliar. Letting her head lean back against the man, Charity sighed and laughed softly.

“Gale, forgot you were here. It’s just so hot. I’m sure you don’t care. Nothing you’ve not seen before right? Both women after all. Oh wait—” Lifting a finger to her lips, she shushed herself with a giggle and a stern frown.

“—Mister Saunders. I remember. Shhh. I won’t tell if you don’t.” Forcing her eyelids to open, she looked at the ceiling with a groan, reaching for the buttons on her shirt clumsily.

“Mmm…it’s too hot. Take this off.” Charity protested, her hands falling into her lap as her fingers refused to work, defeated and uncaring. Rolling her eyes to the floor, she spotted Jynx with a purred sound of delight.

"You're a good osta, yes. Yes you are. Clever Jynxy." Chuckling to herself, the blonde looked back up at Rhys, tilting her chin to kiss his cheek.

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Gale
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: Artful Gunner
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Tue Dec 18, 2018 7:40 am

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Somewhere Safe? | evening
30 Vortas 2718
The production of tea with one able arm was an interesting process in of itself. The arm, while able to hold the load, gave a small tremble as the contents moved. Sloshing up the edge of the cups, swirling as the smith focused on the darkening content. The mind fell into a faint whine as it effectively tried to scrub out the memory as best they could – all small winces as Rhys called back. The kettle was placed down with a clunk, the fingers awkwardly going for the faucet and filling one of the cups with water.

There was no ice, least from what Gale could see.

Back to the world, the smith kept their eyes firmly on the task before them. They made no vocal sound as Rhys entered, the sound of movement alerted them enough of his and her current positions. The couch, the place Gale had taken to nesting, was taken over without thought or consideration. It left them trapped by the kitchen, the hand still and paused mid flex. They were aware of the fields, their instincts prickling to it response. Charity was moaning now, both complaining about heat.

Gingerly, the smith came over with the water passing it to Rhys before making a retreat back to the tea. They continued through the motions, ears twitching as they stilled. They listened closely, too closely, as the hand lifted the kettle to top up the contents.

Woman.

That stung more than it should have.

Jarred thoughts tumbled, the grip on the kettle lost. It gave a clatter against the side, lid spinning off and contents spilling out. Heat burned across the hand, a flash before sharply cooling and the hiss of noise as the lid rolled in circles and inevitably came to a stop. The smith paused, stared, blinked, and then registered the pain. A hissed curse escaped, hand immediately moving back to the tap to stick it under the flow. They did not look to the others; expression pulled into a wince and their voice a mumble, “Sorry. I’ll get it cleaned up.”

Woman.

The digits shook the droplets off, hand moving to the fuller cup. Awkwardly they shuffled over, eyes lowered and refusing to meet and placed the cup next to the Seventen. With speed the smith retreated, hand grasping at a rag and mopping up the mess they made. It was a mess and probably all their fault – the mind jumped to that conclusion on its own. Charity did not care, least currently – it seemed to frequently become the case that Gale was the butt of her jokes. Or sleights. Or whatever. But it still did not prevent the poisonous sensation crawl out from beneath their skin.

Woman.
You’re disgusting.
Freak.


Lids fluttered, the throat growing tight as they attempted to sort their mess. Was it the sense of betrayal? Or the firm, sharp, jab at a sensitive area? Vulnerable. Exposed. The orbs looked down to the rag, before squeezing the damp out into the sink. Movements mechanical, they righted the kettle, returned the lid, and continued their movement. Long gone was the blush now, instead the creeping feeling sunk in its fangs and gnawed at their resolve. But they had to do something.

Peering beneath the counter, they pulled out a bucket. Placed beneath the tap, they quietly spoke as it filled, “You can… you can… tell me? Not Rhys mind.”

Could she? Gale was not certain, but was no stranger to the angle Rhys was going for. They stared at the pooled contents, filling it half way before stopping. With a grunt, the smith brought it to the other side of Rhys, “Cold water. Put the feet in that. Drags the heat out. Quench it.”

It was what they did with their hot metals, a sharp and rapid method to cool them. They were certain it would work here too.

Woman

Shoulders curled in, they looked at the narrow gap where couch and floor met. A single point of focus. The other senses had to be drowned out, thrust unceremoniously aside and blocked behind mental walls. They bowed against it, but for the moment were held back.

“If you tell me, got to speak loudly mind. My ears aren’t that good,” Gale swallowed, better hand lifting and cupping behind their ear as if to emphasis a point – fake or otherwise -. The green orbs darted towards Rhys, settling on his knee before shooting away, “Who were you with? How did you get like this? Who made you?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
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Tue Dec 18, 2018 3:15 pm

30th of Vortas, 2718
HOME | TOO LATE AGAIN
Gods, the delicate pianist wasn't making any of this business easy, and her teasing words only served to fluster the Seventen Sergeant further. His pulse pounded its arguments between his temples, rebelliously attempting to divert the flow of blood from his logical, thinking brain to lower places that did not at all need to be involved in this moment. He blinked at her mention of the Zoo, at her admission of being too high, at not being able to tell him, biting his lip at the brush of Charity's against his skin,

"I'm not angry. There's no reason for me to be angry." He breathed raggedly against her pale hair, cheek against her forehead, wincing at the heat that radiated off her body, "You can tell me what happened. I'm well aware that giving this stuff up isn't something we can conquer in a season, not after so long depending on its empty comforts—"

He made it as far as his sofa, aware that it was now the domain of his unlikely houseguest but simply unable to cope with the confusing surge of emotion and desire: the panic in his lover's voice, the pile of books on his living room table, the awkward overwhelm of balancing lies and truths and harsh realities and bad trips. Embarrassed, angry, and afraid, Rhys crumpled into the old couch and longed for a moment to sink forever into the cushions, to disappear into soft darkness and never return.

"—fuck. Sssh. Gale is who they want to be, and right now—I'm sure they don't want to be here. And yet they stay." Rhys spoke plainly, not even wanting to travel that road right now for it was no less convoluted and no less confusing for himself, raised as he was a galdor, as an Anaxi galdor no less. His hands moved quickly, however, trapped as he was beneath the barely dressed woman he loved, swift to intercept her delicate fingers as they fumbled with buttons, whispering his promise,

"Later. I promise. I'll take this all off later—hmm? I'll make sure to help you cool off however you like. Later, though. Not now. Not here. Just wait." His smile was wan, a mix of truth and fear, and he entwined their hands to place them both on his chest, "I don't understand why you can't tell me? Did you decide that or did someone tell you?"

His sister fumbled in the kitchen and the young Valentin shook his head when her automatic response was an apology, "Like a bit of tea on my floor even matters right now. It's fine. I'll get it later. You shouldn't be doing that. I'm the one who should be sorry." Rhys no longer had a filter, shoved into a life that felt as though it was spiraling out of control in but a single moment, crushed by expectations, responsibilities, and duties he'd so willingly turned away from in order to make his own choices,

"Thank you—oh." His sharp blue gaze held Gale's verdant hues for a deep breath, pausing in his gratitude for tea he probably wouldn't even get to drink, field coming into focus as if it was somehow able to express the blooming of an idea. Shifting just so beneath the delicate pianist who was so temptingly perched half-dressed on his lap, he let the human smith go back to the kitchen with a blink, following their movements as they retrieved a bucket before he leaned toward Charity to pretend to whisper in her ear.

His words were hardly inaudible, however, lips brushing her too-hot, pale skin, "Well, what if I'm not here, lover? You could tell someone else. Someone else like Mister Saunders?"

Cautiously, he slid his hands away from her own in order to allow her the freedom to move to soak her feet if she desired, sliding her from his lap to the cushion next to him and moving to stand, reaching for his teacup and stepping back,

"I'll just be in the kitchen. It'll be like I'm not even here." Not that there was much of a transition from the hearth and the stove of the kitchen to the living area—because there wasn't—but the taller blond could only hope it was enough of a childish game to work for this moment. Besides, he was too cautious to wander too far out of reach, unsure of exactly how else Charity would react to however too much was in her system. With a sing-song voice, he sauntered theatrically just out of view, "Out of sight, out of mind."

Rhys leaned heavily against the counter in his kitchen, setting down his tea without even taking a sip and putting all the weight that clung to him invisibly, unspoken, into his palms, fingers curling against the wood. He pressed his head against the shelf above, laden with his meager dishes, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw to hold all of his helpless frustration in as he did his best to listen, resistinig the urge to reach upward and snatch plates to begin smashing on the floor just out of desperation for some kind of emotional release.
User avatar
Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
Post Templates: Post Templates
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Fri Dec 21, 2018 5:38 pm

30th Vortas, 2718
ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS| LATE NIGHT
The out of her mind galdor watched Gale move around with suspicuous violet eyes, gold flecks catching what light there was as they turned, looking down at the bucket and back at the blonde who’s lap she sat on, before looking back at the human.

You can…tell me, not Rhys mind.

Charity frowned as Rhys moved her from his lap to the couch, making a sound of shocked surprise as her bare feet slipped into the water that felt far too cool to her hot skin. Oh, but it felt good, and she sighed with relief even as the taller man slipped away from her.

You could tell someone else. Someone else like Mister Saunders?

Crossing her arms around herself, disappearing in the folds of Rhys’ oversized shirt, the petite pianist bit her lip for a moment, unclear mind trying to put together the thoughts that flittered in her mind like little fish in a pond. Xi had told her not to tell Rhys, specifically, but Gale wasn’t Rhys. Was that okay? Was she breaking the rule? Her gaze flicked to the wick with a sudden surge of panic, and she clung to his fingers as he stood beside her.

“I…no…I…” Looking between the two siblings, the galdor took a deep breath and nodded, letting his hand go reluctantly.

“I think that might be okay, yes. Okay.” The logic behind telling Gale, but not Rhys, conciled in her mind with a strange sort of reasoning that only the intoxicated would understand, and she watched as the taller man left before turning her eyes to the younger human.

“I wasn’t with anyone, not when I left. I really did go to the Zoo, Mister Saunders. Truly.” Leaning foward, Charity picked up the water that had been left for her, holding it between both hands like some sort of trophy before taking a huge drink, her heartbeat a statacco in her ears.

“When I heard Diaxio, she recognised me I suppose. We spoke, I haven’t seen her in a long time and I thought she was worried. But…then it was more than that. She was angry at me, because I’m clean. I was clean.” Breaking into a sob, the older woman let her words flow in an unrestrained river of emotional mess.

“There’s a business, a circle? Gollies buy and sell, we’re supporting it because we trade in quantity. But I hadn’t thought…I just got what I needed and sold the excess to those who asked. I didn’t realise I had…I’ve been part of this circle. The whole time. Not just now, but before. Way before. Xi was the reason for my addiction. She’s the one that instigated it all, on my eighteenth birthday, in the Stacks. The human that stuck me, he was paid for it. By her! She’s employeed to reign us in, the useless ones with more money then clocking brains. She gets the hooks in, then we’re used to spread it all. Across Vienda. Gods, where else?” Choking on her words, Charity shook her head and took another sip, staring through Gale now as she relieved the evening in graphic clarity.

“I couldn’t believe it. I told her no, and I made to leave but she had others there. A woman, with the…things…those…guns? She held one right here, right to the back of my head, I heard it click, before I could even bother to try…but then fucking Benjamin. He was there too. Alioe…” She shuddered with disgust, small hands gripping the cup tightly and wavering field pulsing heavily.

“They made me take a vial of Crop, the woman with her gun and Benjamin with his leering and Xi with her cold dead eyes. I thought she was my friend, Gale. I thought she was my best friend, but she’s been using me. This whole time. And if I don’t go back, if I don’t get back into it, they’re going to kill me. They were going to kill me.” The blonde cried, the shock of it all washing over her again with anger and hurt. Her body trembled with rage and narcotics, knuckles white as she held the cup for dear life, tears falling with unrestrained abandon. Gasping a breath, she continued.

“I can feel it in me, burning through me. It’s too much. Maybe seasons ago its just enough, but now its like I am falling and I can’t stop myself. Xi knows, she knows how it grips. There’s no such thing as ‘once and done’. I can’t just take this tonight, and stop tomorrow. I know what will happen. Tomorrow I will want it again. I will crave it again. So I’ll sneak out, and get more, just like they want me to. Fucking hell, but I don’t want to. I don’t!” Letting the cup go, it tumbled into the bucket spilling water down her knees and legs as it went, bouncing off the side to drop on the floor as her hands went to her face with another broken sound.

“And if I tell Rhys, Xi said that she’ll…she and Ben…they’ll…Gale I’m scared. I don’t want to disappear. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to be a regular girl, just a regular galdori and I wanted to just marry Rhys and run away and have babies and just be a normal person. I know you don’t care, I know you don’t because why should you? Why would you. I’m sure as far as you’re concerned I’m just a spoilt golly, woe is me compared with the problems of the world. I know, I know its true but…” Pushing her hands through her hair, Charity looked at them with a shake of her head, face blotchy and eyes red.

“I just want it to end Gale. I just want it all to end. My father, the drugs, Xi, fucking Benjamin. I thought I was done, the trial is coming up next season and I thought that would be it. But I can’t get away. I can’t. And Rhys…” His name on her lips was a broken sound, a desperate keen.

“He gets pulled into this shit, and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. He doesn’t deserve this, not this. Not on top of everything else.” Gesturing to herself, the blonde closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the soft couch and resting her hands loosly on bared knees.

“He’d be better off if I was gone. I know you probably think it too. I don't blame you. I hate myself. I hate my life. I wish I'd just died that night in the Stacks. How much better would everything be, if I'd just moved on.” The blonde muttered, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. Sighing, the galdor seemed done, sitting silently as she gazed into the universe that swam across her drug addled mind.

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