January 29, 2003.01.29.03. - pain [tristan-diego][north jersey]
(james)
this morning
his hands manipulated curve steel and synthetic catgut
blood smearing from the wounds that reopened before he could close them
but at least he felt useful, wanted
his head removed from whatever clouds it had been in the past hoursmostly, anyway
and tonight
there's a big keyring in his hand
a specific one chosen, and he makes it past the security gate
(one day he'll have to buzz in, really)
then calloused knuckles are rapping on the door of apartment 221
that's when the raggedy man takes a step back across the hall
shoulders on the patchwork quilt trenchcoat leaning against the wall
dreadlocks hanging down in their tangled disarray
deep umber eyes watch the shadows beneath the door
wondering if he's even home(tritsan)
Amazingly enough, yes… he’s home. After the big black man with the odd appreciation of music and occasional limp left the diner, He and diego returned home, and talked. Yes - just talked, until the wee hours of the morning. He’s spent the day at home, generally puttering, counting and rolling change to assure he has enough for rent, and some for beer and other groceries too. It’s been a good week, actually, and he’s even got a bit left over.
Even after smokes.
He could get to like this town, seriously.
A rap on the door brings brow to lift, and the last roll dropped into the coffee can (banks? What banks?) and he stands, heading that way, pulling open the door with his boyish grin and good natured voice chuckles “I told you, man.. I don’t neeeed any flour - now tequi….” And then he sees James leaning against the wall and that grins slides a bit sheepish “….oh.. Well hello there, handsome.” Teased, even a wink tossed in - you know, before James gets within thumping range and all. He pulls the door the rest of the way open and steps back. “common in…”(james)
a dark brow hikes towards dreads
now if that isn't an interesting salutation
but there's that easy grin in any event
weight rolls from hips up to pull himself forward
moving into the apartment with the dance of coattails around his ankles
chin lifting in nod up
(always up)"S'up Tris?"
(tritsan)
Up, always up. Decker, James, even Rune - the little nod up thing is something they’ve all picked up and always do. No doubt he’ll pick it up next if he spends much time with them (and he probably will.) He chuckles at that hiked brow, easy grin, and shuts the door behind James, gesturing in the general direction of the couch, and the couch and the coffee can on the coffee table. “Nothing much.. just counting coinage. Make yourself at home - want a beer?”
Of course, he knows the probable answer, and is already moving toward the fridge to grab one for him anyway, pausing with hand on the door as he slides a look from dreds to coattails and back up again. “glad to see you still in one piece….”
(james)
that would be why he doesn't bother answering
just shrugging off the trench and settling onto the couch
reaching for the beer as it's handed to him"Yeh, Rune pulled me off the sidewalk at some point last night. Made me go home. Hadn't been there in awhile."
the wry, sharp grin hidden by a long swallow from the bottle
he's quiet for a moment, contemplating curved, cold glass against rough palm"How you been?"
(tristan)
He hands off the opened beer, and settles onto the other end of the couch, bare foot propped up on the coffee table as he recaptures and takes a pull off his own beer, before he simply studies James for a long moment. It may have only been a couple weeks - but he’s family and that’s enough sometimes. Finally… a simple, “Good. Someone had too.” Is offered.
He doesn’t have to say that he was worried sick. He doesn’t have to say that he was worried enough he searched for a while even after he told Imogen he wouldn’t. He doesn’t have to say anything - and amazingly enough, he doesn’t say it at all. Just settles for.. “Not to bad. Been better, been worse.. How about you?” James may always put himself last - but he certainly isn’t that way in Tristan’s eyes.(james)
why... the raggedy man looks positively sheepish, at that
he knows his behavior was implorable
frankly inexcusable
"Yeh..... sorry about that."the apology is sincere
and a hand reaches up to rake fingers through tangled dreads
breath let out in a long whistle"Dealing. Still spooked. Hard to keep from just going and pacing it out of my system."
(tristan)
He nods, slightly, acceptance in his easy grin. “Happens.” Course, had it been next month, when he goes to get Momma Grace and she were here? Well, watch out for the switch boyo, because she’s of a mind you’re never to big to be swat. But it was this month, not next, so it’s all good, right? Right.
Another pull off his beer, reach for pack and lighter, taking on himself and offering the pack to James before lighting his cigarette and exhaling slow.
He’s not sure what to say. If he should pry - if it would be prying at all… hand rises, almost a mirror as he pulls fingers through his curls and lets arm fall to rest on the back of the couch. “Seems like its something that won’t just pace out, anyway… dealing’s the hardest part…. Offer is still open, you know… if you want to talk and all…..”(james)
"Well."pondered, as he takes one for himself and lights up
sliding foward to place the pack on the table
elbows falling to rest against knees
back to studying that mighty interesting floor"I tried harano. I tried running. I tried hiding, hating, sleeping, raging, fighting... the list goes on. None of that worked. I thought I'd give pacing a whirl." some chuckled half coughed out "I don't know if I'm ready to tell the story again, Tris, done so twice and that's more than I ever wanted to."
(tristan)
He just nods, finding the line of the man (broken, and trying so hard to repair himself) far more interesting then the faded carpet. He knows what loss looks like, he knows what it feels like.. and while no two people suffer the same things, in the same way, and no to things are ever alike, there is an inherent understanding that thrums in undercurrent to voice and movement. “Well, then.. until you do, or if you do.. I’ll just have to let Rune keep kissing it better..” A touch of tease, and easy acceptance to the decision.
A moment, or two, and then.. “So - how about I give you something else to concentrate on instead… just to help focus your mind in other directions for at least a little while…” And you know - he’s damn tempted to add his wicked grin in there and make that sound so much.. more… playfully shameless then it really is considering what he has to tell him, and it takes a lot to refrain from doing so - even if it lingers somewhere in dark eyes..
(james)
he... can't help but laugh
fair enough
he appreciates the chiding tease
when it has to be hidden from everyone and everything else
sometimes it's nice to let at least one guard down
there's a bit of a look, at that
once again his brow climbs skywards"Knowing you.... I'm not sure how safe it is to tell you to go on."
long lines of muscle relax
easing himself back against the couch pillows
gesturing absently with the smoke"But go on."
(tristan)
His smile? Yeah - there’s that wicked one allright. Completely unrepentant, and boyishly playful. “Well, see, I met this reaaaaaaaaaaally cute boy who’s been consuming my every thought…. Kinda tattered, ragged, dreds, playful grin - ya know, a lot like me…” And he trails off into a chuckle, shaking his head as he reaches to grab the ashtray and set it on the cushions between them, tapping ashes from smoke and then relaxing once again.
“Now, seriously…” with a look that says yes indeed he can be serious, even if playful grin remains. “there’s two things - one I’m not sure means anything at all, the other has Diego moving out and running with his tail tucked between his legs. So.. first… met - well, kinda met - a guy in a diner last night. Big ass black man, who limped in and then talked music for a while. Wouldn’t have set off the spidy senses or anything except for a couple oddities… he talked in like… well, two different voices. One was typical ghetto, the other as smooth as any sweet talker you’ve ever seen.” A pause, and he tosses back a bit of his beer before continuing. “And he only limped when he remembered too. He was definitely playing some kind of part, but don’t know who the director is. I’d have shrugged it all off except he gave me his card and said to call anytime I needed anything. Set me on edge.. I didn’t take the card, all it had on it was a phone number, which I wrote down on another piece of paper and left the card on the table. So - that’s just sort of a heads up kinda thing… because he was weird, and its my job and all to pass that along…”(james)
the first part gets a laugh
the second sends his jaw working a little
canting off the side in a stretch
absorbing all of that
considering what he heard out of the fomor the other day
he's tempted to just lop the big black guy into the same category"Good move. I've heard stories of taint spread by touch, poisons and the like. Glad you were set off by a couple things and played it safe. What was the number?"
then the frown comes back again
it's this one that gets his attention"What's got a Garou running?"
(tristan)
He won’t lie and say that laugh isn’t damn good to hear, and it gives him a chuckle in return. He nods, studying his bottle for a few moments, before draining the rest of it. “Figured you couldn’t be too careful, and all.” He stands then, and moves to the kitchen table where Violin case rests, flipping it open to retrieve piece of paper and number, taking the time to grab them both another beer, before returning to the couch. Paper is handed over, second beer set on the coffee table, in front of James, his own tipped back before he settles again. “it may just me my over active imagination, but figured you all should know.”
A pause, as cigarette is tamped out. It’s this that has him worried as well. This that eats at him. “Well.. I don’t know the whole story - but it seems he’s running because I moved in, and you all know where he is now. Only thing I really have gathered is that he’s in hiding from his brothers, and he figures they are all the same - this meaning you guys too. I..” He pauses.. a moment, and then. “I was hoping you’d talk to him.. and assure him that he doesn’t have to run - and not just because of.. you know..” gestures a bit.. and grins a little sheepishly.. “but because he’s Garou - and he shouldn’t have to run from his own kind.”
(james)
"Hmm. Couple of the others have abilities I don't." which would be why they're a pack, they compliment each other "They might be able to find out if this guy's for real or just a schizo."but the rest of it
after the second beer is opened
after the second cigarette is lit
after the number is copied
that gets him to stop
gaze rotating up to look at the Kin
quiet for a long moment"He shouldn't have to, depending on his blood and the litany and a thousand other things he may feel he has reason to. He home?"
(tristan)
He nods, under that long look, the silence. He knows there are reasons that one should have to hide. James and Rune, his own doggish ways, the fact that Diego is gay, half a million reasons the litany could have him banned and in hiding.
He hates he is the cause that he’s running again… and will do anything he can to forestall that. The trust he has in James obvious in the simple fact that he brought the problem too him first. He’s got pack - and while they’re not all exactly up and up on certain things he knows James is a lot more accepting then any other Garou he’s ever known, and maybe, just maybe, there’s something that can be done for Diego.
Finally, after a moment, he nods. “Yeah - he’s home. I can call him down…?”(james)
the only answer there is a thoughtful nod(tristan)
He nods with a slight smile, grabs another cigarette, lights it, and then grabs the phone. Number is punched from memory (yeah, already) and he listens to it ring. Now its his turn to study the carpet..(diego)
RIIIINNNNGGThe loud jaring sound of a ringing phone cutting over the soft eletronic jazz that spills from hidden speakers. gaze raises slowly from his work. the part of his flat converted into a studio again RIIIIIIIINNNNGGG should he get it? who knows his number? its to late for michelle (the realestate agent) RIIIIIINNNNGGG. 2 more and the machine will answer prehaps he should screen the call. sighing softly to himself he kills the flame on the torch and looks down at his work. RIIIIIIINGGG gas valve sealed closed dont want the flat blowing up or anything the heated metal dropped into the liquid beside it he finally swivels in his chair RII.. "ola"(tristan)
Ring. He waits, and smokes and waits some more, mentally willing the boy to answer (ring…..ring….ring….ri….) And then smile breaks through and his soft chuckle rolls over the phone line that connects them between the floors and half a building.. “Howdy neighbor… wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar….”(diego)
he was ready to berate someone to tell them off and maybe just for the fun of it go send some techno spirit to rain havock on thier lives for the next couple of hours. and then the voice at the other end comes through. that serious look and deadly growl changes to a smile "i am not your miad tristan if you want a cup of sugar you can come up and get one"(tristan)
He just laughs, and shakes his head. “Aw common man, what happened to being my beck and call boi?” He hesitates a minute.. and then fesses up… “James is here… and we were kinda hoping to talk with you about this whole moving business…” another pause, and soft sigh, before.. “please? For me?”(diego)
beck and call boi, i think not. be glad your not standing next to him when you say that one. although it does make him grin at the same time.... and then the rest of his words flow along their communication cable. what did you tell him. i trusted you. he almost hangs up. is actually pressing the kill button when the plea reaches them. in its own way making his heart hurt. ""ok, I'll bring you a cup of sugar" might just throw it at you though. no chance for him to respond the line goes dead. he hung up.(tristan)
Eyes just close, hiding the faded carpet from view, as he just pulls the phone from his ear and clicks it off. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just holds the phone between hands between knees. They’re not all just one night stands, grunge fucks in alleys, faceless masses. Not to him. And to know that the trust given may have just been irreparably scarred… well.
He takes a breath, and eyes open as he sets the phone on the coffee table before him, finishing off the rest of his cigarette in single drag, and finally says as he stamps out the smoke in the tray between them. “He’ll be down in a moment.
(james)
he stayed quiet through the entire call
but he could hear it
he heard the soft plea in the Kin's voice
he heard the way the phone clicked off before the Kin could fully draw a breath to reply
he stays quiet afterwards, too
chin dropping in a little bit of a nod
from cigarette number two is lit cigarette number three(diego)
he stares at the phone for the longest time, just looking at it finally however he begins to move.standing he quickly mooves across to the kitchen a cup of sugar placed in a tupaware container. before keys are grabbed from nightstand by the bed. a stray glance in the mirror makes him cringe, looking down at his clothes. at the state of his outfit and for a moment contemplates changing. fuck it.
out the door and 2 flights of stairs later he stands there on that last step. the floor before him may as well be some deep hole to nowhere. he would rather step into the abyss at the moment than walk the remaining distance to the kins flat. closing his eyes a deep sigh he takes a leap of faith. that final step. quickly moving to knock on the door
(tristan)
He knows James heard, and his silence is appreciated, even as he stands and drains his beer, takes James’ empty, and grabs a new one for himself, one for Diego when he arrives (if he does - he said he would, please let him come) and a refill for James if he need it. Just moving for the sake of moving, really.
Then is when there’s a knock on the door and he breathes an audible sigh of relief and doesn’t give Diego a chance to change his mind, but crosses quickly to open the door….. the look in his gaze shows just how worried he is about this - and how much he wants to help… (and how much he wants to just pull him in his arms and tell him that everything will be allright.). But all he says was “thanks.” For coming for the sugar he doesn’t really need, for trusting him enough to knock on the door. “common in.”
(james)
he lends a bit of a hand in clearing up the table
handing the empty up to the Kin
then sinks back down against the pillows again
gaze swinging over to the opening door
but he doesn't stand up
for all he knows that could make the other bolt
just giving a little bit of a nod up"Hey Diego..."
(diego)
He knows he doesnt really want the sugar, or prabably even need the sugar. However, he needed that excuse to come, he needed it as a reason to be here.He has certainly looked better than he does now. saftey glasses are still resting upon top his head burried in the dark blue spikes. hair in a disaray. clothes are old. you know that outfit the really comfortable one you never really want people to see you in... yeah thats what hes wearing. his arms are covered in a green and gold dust. even as his hands are clean. there are smudges of reds greens blues and golds on his clothes and theres even one on his face... no tristan everything wont be alright. the look he gives them both is well blank there are dolls with more expression.
"thankyou" at the invitation in
"this is for you" the container of sugar offered to him.
and finally a nod for james. even as he circles around the far side of tristan.
(tristan)
Even dolls have more expression. Something breaks inside, something remembered, some old wound come to light again and shoved so quickly away that it couldn’t possibly have been noticed. He takes the container, and the brush of fingers in contact is no less electric as its been before, but now it holds the pang of that being the last. He nods his thanks, and as he circles around (so obviously avoiding) he simply shuts the door again, and moves into the kitchen, sugar set on the table, before long legs carry him to the couch, beer for diego set there, and he? Leans against the opposite wall, and slides down to sit, knees pulled up, arms draped over, beer held loosely in hand, just sort of tilted toward James.. take it away.(james)
there are times he's been questioned exactly what moon he was born under
too mellow for his own good, too calm, too understanding
too fucking caring tends to top the list off, as well
there's a defensive side in him, way down deep, just from seeing his family hurt
anybody else there'd be tooth and claws sprouting right now
but it's all smooooooooooothed away
there's an easy grin before the beer touches his lips
loooooong swallow (or five)"Why do I scare you."
not mincing words, is he
he can be just as blunt as their Alpha when it comes down to it
big scarey Gnawer sprawled out on the couch(diego)
if only the outside would show you what is happening inside. cracks appear upon the edges of that porcalin mask though, as dead eyes track tristans every movement so closely. searching for something. as if in some way he could find again the spark to set fires alight. fight of the dark and cold deep inside. it shatters for the breifest of moments when with that regected slide, as he slips slowly down the wall to the cold embrace of only himself...yet it is in place again by the time he looks to james that beer offered taken with gleee half gone before he even realises it. sitting next to the window so close to the glass the opposite side of the appartment able to see them both. "some say fire is mans best friend, they have not been burnt"
(tristan)
he knows he’s being watched. Judged. Sentenced in every move he makes, and he simply keeps plugging back that beer. He doesn’t reach for his pack - that would cause him to leave the walls cold embrace, he doesn’t reach for his lighter, here contents himself with his beer.
He’d hoped he’d had a friend in Diego - and until just a few minutes ago, he didn’t doubt it at all. James doesn’t mince words (he is Ahroun, and no singer, after all) and Tristan’s gaze is slow to lift, and only does when Diego speaks. He studies him for a long moment, mouth opens to say something - but simply closes again. Yeah - we’ll just continue to let James take control here.
(james)
"Tell me about it."half of it's an offer
half of it's deep undertanding
the entire thing is chuffed out in a chuckling cough
there's that haunting in his eyes again
but it's shoved away
they all have their little secrets
they all have their enormous pain"Only problem with it, is we're not men. Why are you running?"
(diego)
"when faced with a forest fire what do the animals do?"betrayed, he had trusted you. where he trusted no one. the mask is slipping again as eyes study tristan in turn. his reluctance to speak, tell volumes. cracks appear running over the surface the scarred puppy kicked one to many times, trying to hide behind what remains of the peices.
(james)
there's logic in that
it would quite explain why he's in Jersey and not his home state
there's a thoughtful nod, and maybe a few moments of silence"You think me and my pack are going burn you? Decker was so pissed about his truck he didn't notice what you were. Imogen probably blamed what she felt in you, if at all, on me. So maybe that changes things. I'm the only one that knows what you are. And something like that shouldn't have to run. You think I'm going to burn you?"
(tristan)
His reluctance to speak tells all.
As much as Diego trusted him, he wanted to help. He knows he can. He knows that running isn’t the answer, he knows that as he found acceptance in James, so can Diego…
But he also knows he will accept whatever happens from here out. He’s tried, he’s done his best - and if he looses, he looses. But still, he says nothing… the anger and betrayal so deeply pains him, he simply… pays more attention to the beer in his hand, then the judging, condemning gaze.(diego)
how does he explain how does he show how does he even begin to tell... "you trying to tell me decker needs an excuse to get angry cause i dont beleive that" its the most straighforward thing you are probably going to get from him all night.does he add more fuel to the pyre before they throw him on it kicking and screaming. for once he does not look at tristan but instead turns his gaze uneerily towards james. there is finally something in those eyes now something broken haunted and scared. but also resiliant defiant.
the problem with mental tricks is that there not presice if your not used to it, that jumble of images and words flowing together to make up an collage that slowly becomes a complete picture and finally a sentence and structure.. poor james one more horror to fill him that pooring hate and rage even tristan gets glimpses as he broadcasts in his anger in his pain. 'help me save me hold me' more than communicates.
(PM)
to Tristan, James: the room is surprisingly well lit. isnt it supposed to be dark its always dark light does not shine on such attrocities does it. superimposed imoges a boi so young what 4 prehaps 5 staring at a mirror. fingers gently probing at puffy cheeks a tooth spat out into the sink one whole side of his face a dark blue. tears flow freely from swollen eyes. images of a backhand slap. stricking again and a again the same face different ages body bruised you see the punches you feel the remembered pain. pushed shoved beaten until he was a teenager its hard to tell hes such a small boi. he sitll is. small and broken. its so light it shines in through a window the shadow figure hangs by bound wrists naked as the day he was born. body covered in grime from old wounds healed now ahhh to be supernatural. he passed out in the end. reverted to his own form body starving hanging there for days an endless cycle never allowed down. the cutting begins again he told them he couldnt do it. by failing to do it he defied an order. his brothers pacs version of code red. multiple beatings multiple punishments multiple scenes like this. and through it walk figures whos aura of rage seems almost visible.a brother someone else, more than one the pack numbered 7 thats 6 to one. ...
james dire and decker thier own rage thier own image supperimposed over the others. those latino features caramel skin looking out from under dreads and arian smirks. a get tattoo blend and mix "what makes you different from them with your auras of rage and fire"
(james)
that? actually gets him to laugh
toooo amused by that statement"No, Decker doesn't. A cold breeze blows up his ass the wrong way and he gets angry."
that's when he "listens"
one more horror to add to his mental library of them
a part of it comes with the territory
there's no white picket fences and prize-winning roses for them
it's a life of horror and pain and regret
sometimes touched with victory and honor
but you have to wonder, sometimes
does the good really outweigh the bad?
you keep slogging through another day to find it out
even if deep down you know you never willbut no one should have to have that pain
and a slow sigh bleeds out of the Ahroun
even though those dark dark eyes close
he can't wipe the image away from them
well, that explains the kicked puppy look
his gaze drops, dreads scratching shoulders as head shakes
(he's a little paler, now)
that other beer just fiiiiiinished off with a few long swallows
(you dont hurt a KID like that)
some tight ripple of ignited anger rolling out like a shockwave
but he reins it tightly back in
because how can he explain it wasn't Diego that caused it
but what was done to him...."Because I'm not a sick fuck, Diego. Christ.... I'm Garou, not a monster."
there is a difference, to some
even though there isn't to a majority
a hand lifts to wipe across his mouth
(stomach heaves)
and when that gaze lifts to look at the smaller shifter
the hurt in those eyes is deep"How could you think that I...."
the next moment he's up and bolting for the bathroom
here comes that beer(tristan)
Help me. Save me. Hold me.
In the depths of the glimpses he gets of the anger and pain, those three things ring through, and hand drags through curls. He wants nothing more then to do so - but if he moved now, would he be turned away? Would it send him running? Would. It make. It worse?
Glimpses, he gets glimpses (bruised broken beaten again and again and again hanging twisting, blood and pain and anger and… and…and… oh. My god… dear gaia, why?) and gaze lifts again to meet Diego’s - and its all said without a word, its all said without any more then a flex of fingers around beer bottle that wants to reach for him, help him, save him, hold him. It’s said there in his gaze, in the subtle shift of weight….. The only way he knows to save him, to help him, is to have James be who he knows he is. Strong. Determined. Fair. Family.
James speaks - and the rage surges but is so quickly, so tightly reigned in, and the anger (he. Was just. A kid.) resonates in Tristan. But where James has to reign it in - where it flooded him more quickly, deeper, and he caught mere glimpses, its James’ bolt to the bathroom that brings action.
Lean form unfolds, and while James looses his beer (he. Would never) his own is set aside and in three strides he’s standing in front of Diego - pain mirrored in his gaze.. and his voice mirrors his thought… “James would never… ever do that to anyone. Neither would Rune… This is a true pack, a true family Diego… Listen to him…. And trust me…. Please trust me…” A nod toward the door - and then he can’t say anything else.. he can’t all he can do is reach for him.. a slow lift of arm, a touch of his cheek (don’t turn me away, please..) slow slide of fingers around the back of his neck to urge him forward, broken voice, murmurs.. “commere.” please...(diego)
pack family not mine though and that anger that rage he flinches from it even as it is rained in. how could he think that, how could he imagine it? because he has never known any difference. James actually runs there goes his beer. and all hes left to face is tristan
oh gaia, you saw too? "i never wanted you to see that" i never want anyone to see it, if i can forget it maybe then it wont be real "i never ever wanted you to see that" is there something wrong with this image isnt he supposed to be the big strong one the protector the wolf in sheeps clothing. not the lamb afraid hes about to be eaten. body moves into tristan holds him close. i would take it all away if i could never let you have known.
(james)
it's rare that he sees something to make him physically. sick.
that obviously did the trick
abs heave to rid even his guts of what they contain
because maybe if he can purge all of that
there will be no sticky remnants of the things he saw
there's a courtesy flush... or four.... but he doesn't move when the world stops tossing and turning
elbows rest on the plastic seat
fingers spidering up into dreads
his head just hangsto even think he's capable of something like that
it just floors him
absolutely FLOORS him
he can't even comprehend how much it hurt to be accused of... of...beer's all gone... here comes pure bile
(tristan)
“I know.” And he does.. and he understands why though he only caught glimpses, he caught enough to know the depth of pain, the depth of terror in this wolf who is far from big and bad. Strong arms fold around him, hugging him close as if that could make it all go away, make it better, when he knows it can’t.. a moments respite from a too long lived hell. Again, he murmurs, determined, heartfelt. “James isn’t like that, Diego, I swear it to you…”
Arms tighten, slightly, protectively. The big bad Kin, weaker, the underbelly of the Chosen ones, the one who fights the war by staying home, and being here when they get back again… here he is, cradling the Garou, smaller, but stronger, younger, but gaia the things he’s seen, and offering the only thing he can.. himself. “I can’t take away what they did to you - dear gaia I wish I could, and I know James does too. There is not a single member of this pack who is capable of such atrocities. Decker, even Dire? Get pissed.. but even he wouldn’t sink so low… a child..” he just.. trails off in stunned.. not disbelief - because he believes…how he wishes he didn’t, but he does. He pulls back, only to lead Diego to the couch and sit him there… crouching in front of him and capturing his gaze “I would not have brought him into this if I had even an inkling that he could possibly be anything like that. He isn’t. He’s family. I trust him. Trust me.”(diego)
he just wants to crawl into some fetal little ball and hide somewhere. instead he just pulls knees up under his chin. arms wrapped around him "i think you should go check on james" theres a neat little box inside his head marked do not open. he is quickly stuffing all the contents that just poured out back in there. hide it all away.(james)
little while later, he's actually able to stop heaving
then its a slow climb to his feet
water runs to wash out his mouth
splashed on his face
the door slowly opens and he catches the last part of it
but he doesn't come into the room yet
shoulder leaning against the frame
and his voice is soft
(haggard)"You trusted me the other night. It may have been the tequila... it may have been something else. But you trusted me enough, when I was just as intoxicated, to get into bed with me - and you knew I wouldn't hurt you."
there's a bit of a soft sigh
finally pulling away from the door
walking over and picking up his coat from the edge of the couch"Trust me now. I'm not capable of that, Diego. Neither is my pack. I'll kill anyone that tries to hurt you like that again. Please don't..... forsake.... the friend you've got in Tristan because you're afraid it will happen again. Let us prove to you it won't."
he heads for the door then
something else to try to walk (or brawl or drink) out of his system(tristan)
Lashes fall and hide dark gaze, and head follows, forehead resting against Diego’s pulled up knees curls sliding to hide his face, though there’s no hiding the soft sigh that flows through shoulders, down spine, and hands rest along the other’s hips, just a moment, before he just nods, slightly.
There’s a thousand things to say, and nothing to say at all, there’s hundreds of reasons that he should stay right here, and hundreds more that he shouldn’t… instead, all he does say is this.. “don’t. go.” A soft plea, that’s all, before he’s uncurling to stand, and James opens the door at that moment…
He steps aside, just slightly, more toward James then anything, and listens as he says all the things he’s tried to get diego to understand.. hoping that hearing it here, the pure fury and determination in his voice, his stance, to protect him - and never have him hurt again. He drags his hand through his hair again, and follows James to the door. He knew something had happened - but he had no idea that it would affect James like this… he couldn’t have known, in either of them… hand reaches out, and rests on James’ shoulder for a moment - long enough for a squeeze (I’m sorry), long enough to just.. touch his friend.. some moment of connection, stabilizing himself as he knows he can’t for either of them. Eyes meet, reflect, and fall away again, and hand does the same.(diego)
tequila will do a lot to someones trust levels. and no he never knew you wouldnt hurt him, but when faced with deckers rage james was there acting as a sheild. prehaps deep down he knew you where safe. or prehaps he was willing to place his trust in tristan... "im sorry james. and thankyou" such a soft whisper from somewhere deep in that ball hidden on the couch.
(james)
that hand that lands on his shoulder
he reaches up, covering it with his own
(it's allright, it's not your fault, I was clueless too, knowing that he went through it makes me so angry and I don't want to scare him with my temper)
a thousand things said in that simple touch
dark eyes look from the Kin, then to the other Garou
(take care of him)"Don't be sorry, man.... it wasn't your fault. I meant what I said."
he won't go back on his word of protection
Posted by james at January 29, 2003 12:00 AM
no matter what it is, or who it is
he won't let the little Garou be hurt again
and the door softly closes behind him
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