I guess its all alright @damonivers - Tumblr Blog

whoops. sorry not sorry.

Damon could hear the sound of faint beeping in the distance, the sound pulling him, dragging him back from where ever he’d been; encouraging him like a gentle whisper would to re-enter the world of the living and the expecting. The world around him came crashing into perspective, the sound of distant talking taking up the background where the beeping had once been, the feeling of the strangeness washing over him.

With heavy lids, Damon forced his eyes open only to be greeted by white light and blurry walls, the smells of another world cruelly telling him where his body already knew he was. He tried to sit up, his eyes searching for something recognisable, but a pain in his side made him wince, resigning him to his spot in the bright new world. After what felt like minutes, his tired eyes adjusted and searched the room once more, only this time with purpose and less haphazardness. Slowly becoming perfectly clear to him that he wasn’t where he wanted to be or where he hoped he would be when he woke up next.

How did he end up in a hospital?

The beeping continued as he inhaled and exhaled, confusion drawing his features inward. He remembered climbing the side of Sabina’s house. He remember not seeing her for weeks then climbing the side of her house only to be met with a window that wouldn’t open. He remembered thinking it was strange before his footing slipped and he plummeted to the ground beneath. Then should he not still be lying in a mess at the bottom of her window? How come he couldn’t sit up any more than he could barely breath? He remembered wishing he’d had answered her missed calls earlier that day as the wind rushed by his head.

Damon looked around the room again.

And there ere she was. Sabina.

Her coat covering her like a blanket would, he could see her boots on the ground and her legs curled up to her chest as she seemed to nap without worry. Good, he thought, she didn’t need to be awake just yet. He probably owed her for the trip to the emergency ward with another round of broken bones. Damon’s brows knit together once more as he tried to remember how he got here at all-- did she find him or was it her mother?

Something stirred in Sabina’s face and before he knew it he was watching her own eyelids flutter open till she was looking straight at him. It only took her a moment to realise he was awake till she was perched on the side of his bed. Something in his face made her look at him with worry and concern, and yet, there was that sunny optimism that was always there.

“Hey you,” she said slowly and quietly as if to not startle him, “how are you feeling?” She seemed more worried than he was, as per usual, his own compass for problems and pain always perpetually off to her constant frustration.

“Yeah...” he groaned, his voice tired with sleep, “how did I get here?... Did you drive me...?” His features still pulled in tight confusion, his mind working on the answer alongside hers.

“I found you on the ground and brought you here after the security company rang me. The alarms were going off when i got there, I’m just glad mom and dad are away...” She paused as if in thought for a moment, her eyes looking at him like he was the only person in the world. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter, i’m just glad you’re awake and okay.” She kissed his forehead with practiced ease.

He leant into the touch more than he usually did ignoring the wince that came from his ribs, her absence of the weeks making it all the better now that he saw her again. Although he knew he’d never hear the end of it, he was glad she had found him and not someone else like her parents. It wasn’t always he fell from the window of a large two story house so he supposed he would let her lecture him about it. He probably deserved it anyway; the universe paying him back for being a shitty friend, no doubt.

She smiled again, grabbing his hand tightly in her small ones, “you know, you took quite a fall, the doctors told me you have a strong skull-- apparently no fractures there but you did crack a couple of ribs.” He rubbed his hand with her thumbs, making that fuzzy feeling in his stomach make its way around his body. He had missed her. More than she could ever know. But he would never admit it to her face.

Like she could hear his thoughts, he attempted to sit up again with a laugh, her hands jumping right to his side to help. “Oh yeah? I have a hard head, huh?” He chuckled, “I just thought I was stupid and all this time i’ve just had a hard head? Well who would have guessed, huh.” Damon wasn’t really wanting to talk to her about really happened, the idea of telling her he’d been avoiding her playing on his mind and turning sour with each new breath and blink.

She chuckled, her eyes turning into tiny lines when she laughed. “Yeah, bozo, you have a hard head.”

Damon enjoyed making her smile, knowing that that speciality was saved just for him when he decided to see her. Besides, she kept finding him in rather compromising situations covered in blood and bruises, and he’d do anything to keep that imagine of him out of her head. She already did more than enough for him, the least he could do is make her smile... especially if he was in a hospital bed.

“I’m starving. You want something? I can go and get it if you want? Maybe something sloppy from the cafeteria that you can’t guess what the meat is?” She joked, changing the subject, her eyes sunny with the excitement of helping him.

He laughed himself, enjoying the smile on his own face as well. “Nah, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He said, playing with the too neat blanket that lay over him, ruffling it around. It still didn’t feel right sleeping in a bed. “You go home, Flowers,” he added. “I can call you when they let me out of here-- yeah, I said call. Go home to bed. Please. I’ll be fine.” He said with a wired smile, knowing full well that whatever he said, she’d end up doing what she wanted anyway.

Instead debating with him she just winked, grabbed her purse, and scooted out of the door probably to get him as much food as she could carry at the overpriced cafeteria. He wished he could just jump out of the bed and run down the halls and away, but Sabina was here now, and she wasn’t going to let him go that easily. Not when he hadn’t called or seen her in weeks then found him broken at the bottom of her window. She was here and she was the only one. No one else showed up to see if he was okay (a part of him wondering whether she’d called his family or not, wondering whether she decided not to tell them because she knew he wouldn’t want her to). And he didn’t mind that, at least he was starting to realise she was all he needed.

timotay-chalamet

I woke up this morning feeling like a really needed a drink. My mom died last night. Which is strange, she was a junkie and a drunk. You’d think the last thing I’d want is a drink.

aaaaaaaaahmoths-deactivated2017

Jonathan Murphy – The 100

Aesthetic edit done by me

Do not remove the caption and source or promo your blog or I will find out and be livid :))))

bloodymischa

Why should I apologize for the monster I’ve become? No one ever apologized for making me this way. | requested by anonymous

swelle:

When he pulled her closer, it was all the reassurance Sabina needed to convince herself that this terrible idea might be a good one, if only by willing delusion. Besides, it was only a stroll to the garden that rounded the palace. It wasn’t as if she planned to take him inside or anything to that degree of recklessness. They had made it this far, after all. Perhaps it was that Damon was a willing partner or the encroaching cover of darkness seemed to offer some anonymity, maybe her innocent optimism or the fact that she’d never truly been in trouble, but something urged her on and suppressed the nagging instincts in the back of her mind. She’d have to take him back to the carnival at some point, but not now. No, not now.

She started them off at a gentle pace, something that would give off no signs that anything was amiss about a girl and a boy linked arm-in-arm. With any luck, if anyone spotted them at all, they might just be an anonymous couple wandering the streets as the carnival wound down. Someone would have to get very close to see his injuries, to recognize her as Governor Welle’s daughter, to find evidence that their blood ran different colors. No matter how flimsy, she lined up all the reasons she might fake a sense of safety and lead them away from Caesar’s Square to the river, or the gardens, or wherever the evening may take them.

Though she might have been a little disappointed he hadn’t opted into teaching her how to pick locks of her own, the idea of showcasing her gardens overpowered all. In this way, she could show him something she loved without expressly having to use her abilities – only show what she’d already done. Perhaps more breaking and entering might be finally pushing what small luck they’d found far too far. “Excellent choice,” she agreed, steering them down a narrow street in a roundabout direction towards the brilliantly illuminated Whitefire Palace peaking over the other buildings.

She allowed herself a chuckle at the thought of bursting free from a flower. It was strange to think someone saw her that way… but nice, too. There were many times when Sabina herself had thought she was more green than Silver, more like any of her plants than members of her family. Perhaps Damon could sense that as well, even after only knowing her for an afternoon.

“I’ll show you all my favorites,” she mused, as if she could truly choose favorites. That list would include every seed, sprout, and stem. “Perhaps you might find a bloom that suits you as well,” she added as she pressed her elbow lightly to his side. Even if he couldn’t, Sabina was determined to pick a plant for him before he left. After all, she had done so with everyone she’d ever met. “It’s nothing like the carnival, no bells or whistles or blinking bulbs, but… nice all the same. And quiet at this time of day.”

Quietness actually sounded amazing. Damon hadn’t realised that he hadn’t been so jumpy since they had found a quieter place, but it seemed right that he would be so calm. Just thinking about going back to a place with screaming children and loud bells just seemed liked the worst idea. Crowds made him nervous regardless, not just carnivals. He knew he shouldn’t tell her why thought-- could she ever understand? By now he’d given her enough credit for her to realise he was a soldier, he hadn’t really given her any reason to think other wise. He was a man built from it-- and pain-- and he had shown her his trade simply by standing before her in all his bruised glory.

She pulled him in closer and his stomach involuntarily did flips, that warm fuzzy feeling spreading around him all over again. She was a friend, he thought, a true friend, even if she was blind to what he was. He smiled and nudged her back, happy to be on the move again. Besides, it wasn’t every day he got to see the palace this close. Sure, he’d seen it, but it had always been from a distance, his Red blood barring his way. Although, the palace life or gardens had never really interested him beyond the fact he existed. Something that seemed worlds away to him as a child. And even still, as they walked towards the illuminated building, he still felt like worlds away.

“I would love to see them.” He offered simply, the thought of him caring about someone else’s excitment making him feel like maybe he was getting better. Kris had always said he was selfish, too busy thinking about what is going on in his head and getting it out when everyone else was suffering too. And at the time, he had disagreed, because, at the time, it was all just fights and fists between him and Kris. Now he actually felt like he could disagree with her, now he did care about someone else. Before, he had only thought he cared about his girlfriend when in truth all he cared about was washing the blood from his hands.

“Quiet is good. I’m not one for Carnival shit anyway-- too many people for my taste. This is way better.” He said, thinking about it before. “Your reckon i can be a flower though? Not a thorn or somethin’?” Damon nudged her again, happy that the stresses of their drunk silver encounter far behind them. “I reckon I could pick you out a pretty flower, Flowers.”

swelle:

The carnival. Somehow she had forgotten all about it. Something must have happened once they’d left the square; when they crossed the river, perhaps they’d entered another world: one where someone like him and someone like her could spend the afternoon without reservation or fear… But the four drunken Silvers, people who had more in common with Sabina than she might ever have with Damon, had been a reminder that, no, they were still in the fractured world that drew a thick, harsh line between them, one that erected a diamondglass wall to separate them, one that sent Reds like him to fight the wars that Silvers like her created. If Sabina had thought they had somehow found a space for them, she was just as wrong as she’d been when she’d thought she might be able to keep him safe.

But she could hear it now, faintly – enthusiastic cheers, bells and whistles, laughter like she hadn’t heard in weeks, all mixed together in a soft, faraway hum that scarcely seemed real. It was real, though. But so was Damon, battered and bruised at her side. How could the world be both: carefree carnivals and broken boys? How could her universe protect and pamper her while sending the boy who had helped her up out of the river to the front lines of an endless war?

She opened her mouth with a heavy inhale, preparation for the next inevitable answer: yes. Yes, we have to go back. But before she could admit their fate, the one inevitability they might ever share, he continued. Another unfamiliar feeling crept into her chest, a heavy tightness caging her heart, while the breeze felt cooler against her bare arms and the corners of her lips seemed too heavy to lift into her seemingly-permanent smile.

Sabina had earned the nickname ‘the eternal optimist,’ and took it as a great compliment even when it was intended as a snide insult. Though far removed from the Haven household, she thought of herself able to bend light and shadow in a way: able to find a ray of sunlight on even the darkest days, eager to search for silver linings in heavy storm clouds, just as content to dance in the brilliant sunshine or the pouring rain… but there didn’t seem to be a single thread in their situation that she could spin up into something optimistic. She searched Damon’s face for answers neither of them had, for some reason that they could go along with his plan, but found nothing but the misplaced hope she realized everyone must see in her every single day. She hated to be on the other end, the one to dash dreams and disappoint, but what choice did she have? In what world might they be able to walk freely through the streets, empty as they were now or packed with the Sunday-morning crowds, exactly as they were without judgment?

“More adventure, then,” she said instead, quirking back into her natural smile as she released his wrist and looped her arm through his. No, she much preferred the world as it was in her head and enjoyed ‘hellos’ far more than any goodbye. Perhaps it was a bad, terrible, horrible idea to continue on, especially after escaping detecting not so long ago, but was it truly more dangerous than anything else they had done so far? “Where would you like to go? If we follow the river, we’re bound to see the first lightning bugs soon.” As she mentally turned her back on the serious dangers they faced, it was easier and easier to settle back into her usual optimism. “Or, the outskirts of the gardens… I’m biased, I know, but they’re quite beautiful at this hour. Or, if you’re really hoping to press our luck, you might teach me that trick with the pin. The lock trick, I mean.”

To his surprise she didn’t say no. She didn’t disregard his hopes to spend time with her, instead she took his longing in both of her warm hands and agreed with him. And just that action alone, of her sunny optimism, was enough to fill his heart with warmth. She didn’t tell him he was stupid or that if they continued on their journey, he could be arrested. No, she was gracious and giving and willing to look over the fact, much like he was, that their time was almost up.

She looped her arm in his with practiced ease, the action one he wasn’t aware he wanted so much. Perhaps it was how casually she did it or because she was simply touching him, either way, Damon was sure that everything in his life could be cured by her closeness. He sighed and instinctively pulled her closer to him, his once sad smile turning into one that matched her own. It was funny how the world worked out, he thought, never in his wildest dreams would he though a man could smile so much. He wished they could just be swallowed by the earth in live in the own private universe. He wondered what Sabina would think about that.

All her choices seemed impossible to him-- how could he even pick between glowing bugs and flowers? He didn’t know this place so how could he know what he should choose. Damon shook his head, his lips tipping downward as he shrugged. “I dunno, Flowers. Anywhere but the Carnival is fine by me.” Just thinking about going back there made a shiver creep up his spine, all the bad things that had happened to him over the last several days had been in between those stalls and he was not going to go back there. Not with her. Especially when he couldn’t be sure whether something bad wouldn’t happen to her. Damon was one thing-- but her? Damon was not ready to see her suffer.

He laughed at the thought of teaching her how to pick a lock, the idea something he would one day like to teach her. Perhaps it would come in use to her, his super power. And besides, he liked the idea of being able to smart and teach her something. It wasn’t every day he could do something like that. He grinned instead thinking about seeing her around gardens. Plus he remembered hearing things about the Silver gardens when he was a child, that and seeing something like that with his own eyes seemed like a dream.

“Hmmmm.....” he hummed, his head cocking to the side, “I think that... we should go to the gardens, don’t you, Flowers? See where you come from, huh? Will i see the flower you were born in?” All ridiculous ideas, he knew that, but it was an amusing thought thinking she burst from a flower and into the world. Although, from all that he knew, she very well could have.

swelle:

Sabina straightened up even more, like a sunflower angling towards the light, when he agreed, even if it had come a bit reluctantly. If they were together, they were safe. It was only simple logic, after all: strength in numbers. That’s what she’d been taught her whole life, the mantra of strength and power repeated until the words lost any meaning, but the words had always meant Silver strength and the strength of Silver unity – in other words, nothing like the the unlikely alliance that had formed this afternoon. She couldn’t think of a single person who would agree that there was any strength in those numbers, in those odds, but it didn’t matter. This way, she at least stood a chance at protecting him. She preferred not to use her abilities for combat in any fashion, but, if worst came to worst, she could peel the ivies from the brick walls, pull trees from underneath the cobblestones, and provide a shield for his escape, at the very least. She hoped it didn’t come to that.

She reached out instinctively again when he moved too look back over the counter, but with the voices so much further away she wasn’t nearly as afraid of immediate capture and didn’t actually touch him this time. It was all but unfathomable to her how readily he put himself in harm’s way. She couldn’t make it through a luncheon without weighing the odds of every innocuous comment that filtered through her mind, without the underlying urge to protect her family and herself as much as she could without compromising her true opinions; Damon, however, faced quite considerable consequences and didn’t seem to care. At all. He must be a soldier, she thought again. How else could he so easily throw himself to the front lines?

Damon was up and across the room before she truly had a chance to process his plan. Crawl to the door? Her mother would be horrified. But that was silly, Sabina realized, when there wasn’t even a worse that could begin to describe her mother’s outrage if she were to find out how Sabina had spent the rest of her afternoon. Soaking the silk of her dress, bounding around barefoot, creeping on hands and knees across the hardwood… Those were the least of Sabina’s worries now.

But Sabina crawled, as instructed, even though Damon had popped up into full view of the front window. She could only hope the mannequins and hand painted lettering obscured him from view. Before the front counter was out of reach, however, she tucked back into her tiny drawstring bag, still somehow hidden at her shoulder, and shook a few coins free. She exchanged them for the extra scraps of the gauzy cotton she’d pulled and a roll of the fabric tape, doing her best to line them up on the counter from her crouched position at the floor before heading towards the door once more.

“We’ll be fine,” she countered when he met her at the door, mirroring his smile with one of her own and even believing the words a bit more now. “We’ll be together.” She punctuated with a nod, indicating it was time, and held her breath as Damon opened the door. She let him out into the alley first and was sure to lock the door from the inside before she shut it silently behind them, locking them back out onto the streets stretched with long, dark shadows. It was getting later and cooler already. She was reminded of the old adage: time flies…

She didn’t remember reaching out to grasp his wrist, but she realized she had, noticing a faint pulse under her thumb while she scanned the street ahead and listened for approaching footsteps. “We ought to take side streets, alleys, ‘roads less traveled,’” she quoted in a low voice from a poem she adored as she finally let him go. “Less chance of surprises that way, I should think.” Now outside, the sudden surge of confidence she’d found seemed to be fading away into the late afternoon. Even now, she could hear faint, echoing laughter from the group that had passed them earlier. Everything she had done this afternoon had seemed like such a good idea – until now. Now it only seemed foolish, naive, dangerous. “Stay close to me?”

She grabbed his wrist and he felt himself naturally relaxing, the feeling that he was guiding her and pulling her to safety making him feel better about the whole situation. Damon could hear the drunken laughing in the distance but he didn’t worry much, knowing that soon enough the potential threat will be far away. It comforted him to know that she had listened to him, that she hadn’t fought him and followed him to the door. It meant she trusted him. He liked that. He liked her holding onto him too.

Damon knew he was going to have to pinch himself eventually. Surely this was all a dream? If he pinched himself he would wake up in the dumpster from an awful dream....Wait, maybe he’s dead. Maybe the guy with the roots that came from the ground had killed him and Damon had finally made it into the world of the lost. Damon wondered if he should pinch himself at all, then, not wanting the dream to end. Instead Damon decided to accept it and remind himself she was with him and beside him, her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrists.

“Good plan, Flowers.” He agreed, a smile perched on his cheeky lips. “I always you were the smart one out of the two of us.” He winked and pulled her along, ignoring her plea for him to stay close to her. She may be the smart one but that didn’t mean he had to listen to her. There was no way in hell he would stay close to her, it’s not that he didn’t trust her, it was just more.... he was more equip with dealing with danger than her. It was what it was. He just wished she could understand.

They slipped down the side of the alleyway, their backs close to the brick wall as they kept their eyes vigilant for others. Damon was confident they would be okay, a calmness settling over him that seemed to be lacking when they were in the shop. He liked being able to be the one to protect, so often he was the one that brought pain and sadness, the one to be protected from.... he liked that she trusted him. Damon thought Kris would be proud of him.

He kept looking over his soldier, making sure there was no one there. Damon didn’t want to think of the things that might happen next. He knew she would be thinking about it to... Where had their time gone? It wasn’t fair that they were painfully reaching the end. All the good things that had happened becoming all but a memory. Damon wished she could touch him one more like she had back at the river, dabbing at his wound, her finger tickling his skin... But he didn’t know how to make it happen again. How could he ask someone he just met to hold him and touch him and never let go? Perhaps he’d just have to be okay with her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

They came to a corner when Damon finally turned to her. “Where now?” He asked. “We gotta go back to the carnival, yeah?” He sounded sad, a question he hoped she’d disagree too. He wished she’d offer taking him home with her. He wished she would tell him he didn’t have to go away and he could sleep beneath her floor boards indefinitely. But he didn’t know how to ask her that either. He smiled. “I mean, I don’t have to go do I? We can find more adventure, yeah?” He paused, deciding he would regret it if he didn’t say anything. “I-I could just come with you, maybe.”

#this is shit soz <3

mr-robotdaily

swelle:

Are you insane? she wanted to counter, but held her tongue while maintaining a locked-on stare while something unfamiliar simmered in her chest. In truth, she was not entirely sure she wanted to hear his response. Sabina had never really been accustomed to letting others live their lives without interruption. Whenever she saw opportunities big or small to perhaps brighten their days (or pester them, as Gerard had put it), she took them. When she failed, she tried again. Rejection rarely wounded her, defiance didn’t defeat her, but the stakes of those games had never been particularly high. If she let Damon merrily make his poor choices now, however, he faced punishments unknown, possible imprisonment, potentially worse. If she were to wander out into the streets in her damp dress and bare feet, she may be able to simply link arms with the small crew and lead them away with nothing more that silly story and a light laugh. Even in her worst case scenarios, she might be scolded for roaming around alone, might endure some mild harassment for that fact, might earn herself some warning, but nothing compared to the risks Damon would face just because his blood ran red.

Surely he had to understand all of that. No matter what game they had played this afternoon, no matter how much she’d enjoyed it, no matter how much either of them wanted there to be no discernible divide between them, there was. There always would be. They would always be different, too, with different lives and different consequences. It was the ugly reality of their world, but he had to see it. So why was he being so stubborn?

Who would care if he got hurt? I would, she thought, the answer so obvious. Couldn’t he see that too? When he raised his voice, it was her turn to sharply shush him now.

The warm, tight pulse that she still couldn’t place clawed up the back of her throat… and suddenly she realized what it was. Irritation. Annoyance. Defiance. All of them foreign, and all of them intermixed with fear. She didn’t like how any of them felt, pulsing in her temples and coursing hot metallic blood through her veins. Most of all, she didn’t like how ready Damon was to put himself in harm’s way and on her behalf, no less. Single-handedly, she had put him in a dangerously precarious position and he returned by intending to take the blame. There weren’t many things she hated, but this feeling was one of them. Did Aurelian, their king, feel this way at the thought of his armies on the front lines of the Lakelander war, risking and losing their lives to keep him, his family, and his country safe? Did Domitus suffer to think that his guards would do the same for him?

She didn’t care how they felt, for she was singularly determined to shield Damon from the danger she’d placed him in. No one would risk harm to protect her, least of all the one she’d unintentionally positioned in harm’s way. Once they’d both allowed a moment of silence to pass, punctuated by the distant but still present voices drifting down the street, Sabina softened considerably. Anger at any level was an emotion she couldn’t sustain for long and, in addition, he seemed less inclined to run straight into a sure fight now.

“And you helped me up out of the river, only for me to repay you by placing you in danger,” she whispered. “I think that evens the scales between us a bit.” A small smile turned up at the corners of her lips now. “But alright, then. We’ll stay together.” This way, she realized, she would be able to oversee his escape and perhaps stand a chance at ensuring his safety. “I think we ought to get out of here, though. It will get harder to get away undetected as it gets later, especially if some are already starting to leave.”

He could see the annoyance written all over her face, her once bright eyes clouding with irritation. There must be something about him that naturally draw that reaction out of people, knowing that the guard find just merely the sight of him enough to make them frustrated. He, of course, felt the same way about them. It didn’t take much to tense Damon’s shoulders at the beginnings of frustration and annoyance-- in fact, he probably lived in a perpetual state of anger. But that was life.

He felt bad about snapping at her like he did when she’d done nothing put help and protect him. She didn’t deserve it. She was smart and bright and warm in his foggy grey world, he shouldn’t be so stupid. She was worth every moment. She still saw him as that kicked puppy by the dumpster, cowering at his closeness-- hell, he was surprised she hadn’t run away when she realised what a fucking nutcase he was. He longed for her touch again but he didn’t want to push it, not wanting to come off as creepy or pathetic like so many already probably think. He wanted to be the guy she thought he was. There was something nice in that thought that seemed to settle the nerves in Damon stomach.

But the thing was, her anger didn’t last. Her clouded eyes cleared and a bright, warm smile spread across her lips once more. Damon wondered briefly for a moment how she did that, how she stopped herself from being so irritated, how she just let it fizzle out to nothing. He wondered if that was just who she was or because she was born Silver without much trouble in her life. Damon, however, decided he wouldn’t decide that about her, not when he’d known her for only little more than an hour. Instead he made a mental to note to ask her one day.

He sighed, knowing she was right, despite the fact he didn’t feel completely in danger. He bit his lip for a moment, trying to think of a way that the could stay together forever without either of them sacrificing their lives. Unfortunately his plans still hadn’t extended past throwing rocks at her window while he slept in an alleyway next door. Damon breifly considered kidnapping her but he knew Aurora could only just deal with one Silver in their walls, let alone two. Plus, he was sure he would be the one to blame if he did, spouting nonsense of him finally loosing it and kidnapping another victim for him to abuse without thought. No, she had to stay in her world. She had so much to lose if she left compared to him. Sure, all he would have to do was avoid returning to the Choke and he could live happily with her. Huh, what a dream.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You’re probably right.” He moved, peaking his head over the counter once more. It looked as if the drunks had settled down for the sunset, their limbs sprawled out around them as the took in the last rays of warmth. “You crawl to the door, i’ll get a shirt, then we can go, yeah?” Before she had time to answer he stood up in full view of the window, darting for his old shirt without little thought to the matter. He didn’t need a new shirt anyway. It was probably better in the end.

He didn’t bother checking to see if she’d moved, knowing she knew that it was all or nothing now. Slipping on his shirt and grabbing his jacket on the way, he darted back to the door the arrived through, reminding himself to keep low. “You ready, Flowers?” He asked, a small cheeky smile on his face again. “This might not be pretty so prepare yourself.” More a dig at himself and what might happen to him than their actual hurried escape. He put one hand on the door nob, looking to her for confirmation.

#always long #so long #why #do we hate ourselves

brooksfaulkner

[ @lucretiia && @damonivers ]

#I AM GONE #I AM DEAD #LORD HAS COME FOR ME ON THIS DAY

brooksfaulkner

[ @swelle && @damonivers ]

hedaontari

—- ( stay away but come closer )

damonivers

i am wounded. this hurts me.

swelle:

When Damon shifted in her arms, she’d unconsciously gripped tighter, but still he pulled away, Sabina reaching out for the parts of him she could still grasp. It was an ill-conceived plot to keep him hidden behind the counter, but he had far more to lose by being caught – couldn’t he see that? As if he could read her mind and simply didn’t care, he made his move.

She suddenly found her voice again, in the most emphatic whisper she could manage: “No!” He seemed undeterred, as if something had come over him, as if the very real, very present, and very near danger didn’t bother him at all. She was reminded of the river, how he’d slid to the water despite all his injuries, how she’d thought him a little unstable. This wasn’t simply instability though, this was akin to attempting suicide.

“No no no no no,” she repeated with more urgency now, eyes widening in sheer panic and tugging at his wrist until he’d finally slipped up out of her grasp. She froze again under the counter, eyes to the wall in search of shadows, hands out stretched to him or whatever plant life she could reach, depending on how the next few seconds played out.

When he settled back to the ground, she waited for some indication he he wasn’t crazy, that he realized he’d made a mistake and was lucky to still be breathing, that he was going to perhaps listen to her insistent pleas next time, but none of that came. Instead, he looked quite pleased with himself while Sabina could only stare on in bewildered horror. From the way he still stood tall with the assorted injuries criss-crossing his body, she suspected his pain tolerance was higher than most, but the way he could joke after the very real possibility of being caught shirtless in a closed Silver store was evidence that perhaps he didn’t feel fear either – at least not in a way she could understand.

“Don’t do that again,” she insisted softly, unable to return one of his jokes for the first time. She hadn’t realized how hard her heart had been pounding, but she could feel it in her ears now; hadn’t noticed the searing tightness in her chest until he’d sunk back into her sight and she’d remembered to breathe again.

If he had gotten caught, it would have been entirely her fault and even if he didn’t care, she did. Who was he to risk his life so that she might escape undetected? What did he possibly have to gain from assuming the hero role in the face of four strangers who might be able to rip him apart in an instant? Why on earth would he risk capture and torture for her, the girl who had dragged him reluctantly into this situation? The thought of him taking the fall scared her more than getting caught on her own.

“I can lead them away,” she whispered instead of playing along. “It’s not entirely uncharacteristic of me to wander the streets alone and…” No harm will befall be for doing so, she wanted to say, but did not. “Well, I’ll go one way, you go the other.” When she said the words aloud, she realized what she had suggested: the end of their afternoon. She didn’t want it to end, but she was also quite aware she’d gotten far more time with him than she could have ever imagined. And he’d almost paid the price for it. “You’ll be safer that way.”

For some reason, her panic didn’t seem to match his own. While his was still cool and calm on the outside, hers was definitely not. He understood well enough why. She was a lady, a silver-- Damon didn’t like to assume with her but he knew that she probably hadn’t been in any situation nearly as bad as this. And while he thought it was kinda lovely she was freaking out, he felt bad for her. He didn’t want her to worry about him, he could survive just fine on his own. Besides who were they going to give a shit about when push came to shove? Certainly not her, and he wanted it to stay that way.

It hurt a little when she ignored his joke, hoping that they could just sit together for a while or forever and then both escape together. What was the point of them splitting up? She may be able to draw them away...but then what? What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just run away while they zeroed in on her. No. He wouldn’t let her be in the line of fire. He’d spent plenty of time on the front lines to know what it can to do a person. Although this wasn’t war, it certainly felt like it. It was Sabina and him against them. It was them against the world. Red and Silver hand in hand. Damon with his scarred imperfect body and her with her perfect one. They would definitely make headlines.

“Are you nuts?” He asked, the irony most likely lost on her. “You’re not going out there. We’re staying her. Together.” He spoke definitely, his own stubbornness matching hers. Besides, if they just squatted for a while the Drunk would either go to sleep or leave, then they both had a safe exist. No one needed to get hurt. Yet she still insisted he needed it more than she did, that he was more vulnerable for whatever stupid reason. He had been through enough that one more bruise

“Who gives a fucking rats ass if i’m safe or not, Sab! ” His voice much louder than it should have been. It felt strange to have her real name come from him, even if it was a shortened version. He could feel his his annoyance setting in, carving a place on his brow as he looked at her with a frown. Damon hoped it was nothing more than being annoyed, that he wouldn’t turn into the monster that she can’t see lurking beneath the surface.

Damon took a moment, closing his eyes as if to reset his brain and counteract her stubbornness. “All i’m saying is... I don’t want you to go out there. You’ve done plenty for me today.” He shook his head and took a concentrated breath in and out. “Either we stay in here and wait for them to leave, or we both sneak outta that door together. I don’t want you to be takin’ the blame for anything. Besides,” he said with a shrug, “I should be the one ownin’ you my life, patchin’ me up like this.”

swelle:

When his question cut off without a sensible conclusion, she stopped fully and turned back to him with brows raised, a question perched on the tip of her tongue (‘why Silvers have what?’). But when she opened her mouth to ask, he shushed her. Legitimately shushed her. She hadn’t been silenced in that way since Protocol, attempting to stifle giggles behind her hands with Alessa. Gods, that had been a long time ago. She couldn’t remember the last time her former friend had looked on at her with anything less that disinterest if not outright disgust. She wanted to tease him, to gently fight back, but when she caught the look on his face, the hesitant way he’d approached the windows, Sabina paused.

For a moment, the tailor shop was entirely silent. She could hear nothing, now that he wasn’t dropping his nickname for her and she wasn’t rustling through folded fabrics and hung shirts, nothing but her own heartbeat, that is. Until she caught a snippet of what had caught his attention just seconds before: laughter, sloppy shuffling steps, and it was getting louder. If she had simply paused before, she was frozen now.

Before she could even process the severity of the situation, contemplate exactly the magnitude of their doom, fathom that she and she alone had put them in this position, Damon was upon her, him reaching out to her instead of her reaching out to him for the first time this afternoon. She might have yelped in surprise if the initial shock hadn’t stolen the air from her lungs. The nickname reminded her to breathe, though, and she did, shallowly and quietly, eyes wide and alert and desperately scanning what she could see from their place behind the counter. With no ideas of her own, she had nowhere to look but at Damon.

“We’ll be fine,” she breathed, emphasizing with a barely-there nod. For the first time this afternoon, she was suddenly not so sure that was true and the slight shake in her voice betrayed her. As if to somehow steady herself or convince Damon she could protect him, she lifted her hands to touch him, his skin warm and dry now. She stared into his face, nowhere else to look, searching for a sign that he believed her now, trusted her now. Did he? And on the off chance that he did, should he?

Shadows moved against the back wall, pulling her gaze from his. She counted four of them shifting among those cast by the mannequins, distorted by the glass between them but no less terrifying. In fact, the way the sun had sank towards the horizon only stretched them out longer, turning four Silvers of normal stature into long, distorted monsters with thin curved knives in place of fingers, ready to draw blood both Red and Silver. The thin barrier between the two of them huddled beneath the counter and the four others outside muffled their conversation, but not enough to give her any sense of security. Every word of their conversation that she could pick out despite their lazy slurred speech was a reminder of just how little there was between them. Every laugh that rippled through their crowd reverberated down the otherwise empty streets. If they wanted to crash through the glass, it wouldn’t be hard, no matter their abilities. And, that in mind, being a greenwarden hardly gave her any advantage at all if they were to be discovered, if they were meant to fight, if she was to protect Damon from the danger in which she’d coaxed him into.

But she had to. She could, if it came to that. She had trained her entire life, but had performed poorly since she could never truly give the exercises her full effort. Sabina couldn’t bring herself to harm another person even in a controlled situation, but if provoked, if necessary, if it meant protecting him, she would.

She tightened her grip on him when another contagious and boisterous laugh rumbled behind the glass. “They’ll be on their way soon,” she whispered, attempting to sound more sure than her anxious motion and voice made her out to be.

His heart was racing in his chest and his hands got sweaty with nerves. It was different to usual, most of the time when his heart raced and got clammy hands, his chest was tight and ready to burst. This time he was terrified. Scared of being found with his arms wrapped around a lady, found in a compromising position that lead their drunken enmies outside the window to assume the worst. Damon wondered if it were the Scarlet Guard that found him whether they would think any different either. He was sure they thought him capable.

He could see the ugly long shadows on the wall as the stretched before the two of them, their voices carrying like there was absolutely nothing keeping them hidden. Damon thought it was silly how scared he was. He was a soldier, a fighter, a rebel. He had no reason to be scared of some drunken Silvers. God, they should be the one’s fearing him. He didn’t like to think of the horrible things he could do to a perfect Silver face with just his fists despite the fact he had dreamt about it. He could see her trying to protect her new broken flower, his wellbeing being more than hers, he could see her try. But it felt like a secret he knew when she didn’t. She didn’t know what he was made of. She didn’t know he had fangs instead of teeth and a monster instead of a human soul.

“I know, I know...” He whispered back, thankful for her quite whispers of reassurance in his ears, even if he would have to be the scapegoat. And Damon was okay with that. Knowing indefinitely his life was not worth hers, that there are plenty of other people like Damon in the world, ravaged by a soulless beast, unholy forever.... But there was only very few with the heart and soul of Sabina. And that was something he was okay with.

Her grip tightened and his tightened back, his breathing short and shallow as the shadows on the wall moved with the sun, moving around until he wasn’t exactly sure where they were. He could still hear them talking but he couldn’t make out whether they were gone or just...moved. Damon wanted to be the bigger man for once. His dreams of being the hero slowly trickling into his mind as his arms released around hers, fingers creeping to the top of the counter. “I’m just going to have a quick look, okay. Just stay low.” He whispered, his voice full of confidence.

Peaking over the counter, he could see them in the middle of the street crashing into each other, falling over. Damn, they were still within seeing distance. Damon wanted to draw them away, and elaborate planning involving his ability to run faster than them. But he knew that would be for nothing. He ducked back down and looked at her worried face trying to be strong. “Okay. Good news and bad news.” He sat back against the counter. “Bad news: I need to go to take a piss and they’re still out there. Good news...” He paused, thinking. “You’re stuck here with me for a little bit.” He grinned and pushed the hair out of his eyes. Hopefully they never left. Hopefully he could sit with her forever.

swelle:

Out of a thousand choices in a hundred different shades, Sabina would have chosen green every single time. The color belonged to her house, after all, and no one would think it incredibly odd that she was drawn to it… but it was more than that. It was the opposite of the violent red in the Calore banners, a reminder that things lived and grew even in the steely cold Silver world, camouflage she could wear to all but disappear into her gardens. Though it was simply cotton fabric, so far removed from the tree that she couldn’t command it any longer, it still felt alive, somehow, in her hands. She didn’t know quite how to say all of that, but thankfully Damon accepted the offer and she didn’t have to.

“My favorite, actually,” she offered as an aside while she tucked the empty hanger back in place. Still chuckling, she padded behind him, looking over his shoulder in the mirror. He looked so different now, not just because he was bare chested or clean or sporting crisp bandages, but because he was smiling. When he’d been cowering by the dumpster, he had been terrified, no doubt, and for good reason. Her Silver peers had turned him into one of their training dummies, aiming punches and flame and gods knew what else, and she’d approached him with the same blood in her veins. And he’d still accepted her help. And now here they were.

As he started to redress, she hopped up to sit on one of the counters, looking elsewhere even still. She realized they’d passed that point long ago – she’d already seen and touched him shirtless, he’d lifted her from the water in her soaking white dress – but she sill felt as if she owed him some privacy in the small way that she could. When he announced that he was done, however, she was happy to look his way again with a wide smile. Not a bad fit for her first guess. “Very handsome, Damon,” she agreed enthusiastically, popping down from the counter to get a better look, easily ignoring the lame comparison to a ‘beautiful Silver man.’ Too many of the Silver men she knew were far from beautiful, scowls carved seemingly permanently on their faces: Gerard, Augustus, her own brother, even Caius rarely smiled. There was no beauty in something cold, in harsh angles or unsettling symmetry, not in anything unmoving or unfeeling, at least not to her. “Ooh, and it does bring out your eyes.” She tugged at a stray thread poking out from a sleeve, admiring her choice and the way her wore it, feeling quite proud of herself.

Well, until she realized she could do better. “Is it that bad?” she asked, wrinkling her nose, then taking a step forward to pinch the point of the collar between forefinger and thumb to inspect. The crisp fabric at his neck was undoubtedly starched stiff, to hold up against whatever powers the true owner possessed, no doubt. She didn’t envy the men in her life for their shirts buttoned tight to their throats or the collars chafing at their necks; she much preferred things that breathed and flowed, allowed the sunlight to touch her skin. “We can do better,” she decided immediately, releasing the collar and turning back into the aisles. “It’s just a little too warm for cashmere and silk would be far too hard to sneak past anyone, I think, but linen,” she decided, “linen might work.”

Apparently itchy was not good, her brow furrowing in thought as she realised something else might be better. To be honest, Damon didn’t mind what the shirt looked like or what the fabric was, just having a nice clean crisp shirt was more than he had even expected. Not to mention it was like she was his own personal stylist. The voice in the back of his mind told him she was doing it for purely selfish reasons, because she couldn’t bare to look at him in rags, see what it was really like to be someone like him; masking the real problem with a shirt. But Damon was certain he knew better than the voice in his mind this time. He knew it was coming from a place that was genuine. He knew she wouldn’t ignore him and who he was like that.

She rubbed his collar to feel the fabric, watching her face every second she did so, every little movement it made. Every blink. Every breath. He couldn’t help but be mesmerised by everything she did. Perhaps it was because she was sunny and vibrant in his flawed world, or perhaps it was because she was so different to the people of the Guard, different to Kris and Adri and Andy.... Perhaps it was both. He felt happy with his life when he was close to her, happy and content to be Damon Ivers in a world of pain and suffering. She was like nothing he knew. Damon thought he might want to tell her about it, but he would no idea how to start. She didn’t need to know, not yet.

“Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.” He began unbuttoning his shirt, the feeling of clean cotton something he didn’t particularly enjoy the itching feeling of. The silence around them didn’t seem suffocating either, instead it sat over them in comfort. Knowing that the silence met safety. Knowing it meant they were well away from the action of the carnival, sitting in their own little world. He wanted to stay in it forever. With his shirt half unbuttoned, he pushed a piece of hair off his face without thinking. Luckily it felt like his clothes were much dryer now, the warmth of the room soaking up the moisture in his dark pants, so much so that he had almost forgotten they had gone for an impromptu dip.

“So will linen be less itchy?” He asked, continuing with the rest of his buttons. Pacing the room without thought, he was glad that they had been conveniently close to a clothes place. It seemed stupid they had been out in the open at all. Swinging the shirt off his body, he placed it on the counter in a thoughtless ball. “Ya know, I sometimes i wonder why silvers have--” then he heard it. Laughing. Joyous laughing. A whole group of it. No. “Shhh... don’t move for a second...Just stay there.” He approached the display window by the front of the shop, doing his best to look out the window and down the street in search of the noise. It was okay if he was found-- but her? With him? Damon wouldn’t allow that, not for a second.

In the near distance he could see them. Drunk silvers. Four of them. Obviously they had decided that it was a good idea to get out of the Carnival too. “FUCK., Fuck, fuck, fuck, they’re fucking coming down the street.” He rushed back to her, wrapping his arms around he shoulders and pulling her down with him behind the counter. “Shit, Flowers.” He didn’t think about his cursing in front of her, the words spoken in panic and urgency.

His bare arms still held her tightly as they ducked behind the counter, the sound getting closer and closer until he could hear them in front of the window. “Just our luck.” He whispered into her ear, their faces so close together he could feel the breath on his.

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