corpse.

nathaniel guinness. twenty-eight. human. security, incognito writer.

[lydia-pryce]

When he didn’t say anything, Lydia took that as a good sign; perhaps she’d won their battle. Though, that didn’t take away from the fact that her heart rate had yet to calm down, or the fact that he hadn’t stopped staring at her since. There was just something unnerving about his entire person, especially when it came to his eyes. They dared not to look away from hers, burning through the iris’ as if words were unnecessary in sending his message: he knew. She knew her declaration was far from convincing, even if it were technically true. No one was hurting, but that didn’t mean they weren’t at one point.

Lydia sucked in a deep breath before stepping towards him only to brush past his side, aiming for what she came there in the first place for. She went to grab the box, but as her fingers grazed the cardboard, she turned around instead. “Could you stop looking at me like that?”

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

He'd seen the abused.  He'd seen the broken; he'd seen the people that were trudging in the depths of darkness.  With his head tipping to the side the slightest bit, he kept his eyes on the girl, ever present and attentive as they had been before.  He always wondered why people tried to hide things when they were so blatantly terrible at doing it.  He'd only ever seen a few that were inherently good at burying their emotions. Most others were far more obvious than they thought.

He turned as she moved, continuing to watch over her.  A small quirk in his lips appeared again, and the same smart-ass response he'd used previously returned; tone all the same.  "I'm sure I could." 

[lydia-pryce]

She hadn’t felt so exposed in years. Instinctively, Lydia brought a hand to cover the expanse of her forearm. There weren’t any bruises or scars, but it seemed as if her skin was layered in them regardless. Underneath her palm, the area pulsated, drowning out her surroundings until it was just her and the man. She hadn’t looked up from the spot on the floor, unable to witness the patronizing expression on his face.  

And then he asked a question she had longed to hear but never did. As if all at once, the very breath from her lungs dissipated, and she was left wordless. Slowly, her eyes traveled up to meet his, her brows furrowed in confusion and anger. Those exact emotions swelled in her chest, forcing their way up her throat until she couldn’t handle it anymore. “No.” She said flatly, finally mustering the courage to take a step backwards. Ignoring the way her feet clumsily tripped over each other, Lydia repeated herself. “No, no one is—who the hell do you think you are asking me something like that?”

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

Nate watched her move in silence, not needing verbal confirmation for what he already thought.  The details of the way she moved was enough, speaking volumes-- endless clues and hints to support what he already believed.  She stepped away and he stood still.  He was motionless, like some sort of statue that was just wrong in the world, standing amid the mess with watchful eyes.  He didn't need words to make people uncomfortable.  No, it seemed the weight of his eyes did it for him when he needed.

He didn't say anything.  He didn't continue conversation or try to coax her to come back.  Nathaniel simply watched, his gaze hard and lingering, picking at every detail from her unsure steps to any movement of her fingers.  He just fucking watched.

[lydia-pryce]

As soon as he took that extra step towards her, it felt as if she could no longer breathe. Fear pounded through her chest at a speed unmatched by the beating of her heart. Lydia understood it as the same fear she’d experienced regularly with Jonathan. She had often found herself in a similar situation, and the outcome was certainly not something she favored thinking about for too long.

Granted, Lydia knew this man wouldn’t act out on her in public. It was an irrational fear that grew to feel more real as the years went by since Jonathan left. Still, she cowered in the same way she was used to, hoping by some miracle of a chance he would leave her alone and get on with his shopping. “Please,” She croaked out quietly. Please she screamed in her head, please. “Y-you’re making me uncomfortable.” Wanting to move back, her legs defied her.

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

He watched her.  Nate took the moment to be silent, watching the way she shifted and held herself, seemingly paralyzed where she stood.  He'd seen the reaction before, and despite his want to send her running, he felt where he'd struck a chord--- one that he wasn't particularly fond of.  Despite his asshole tendencies and seemingly constant need to be a motherfucker, there were things that stuck inside; values and morals taught by his family that he executed in odd ways. 

Women were off limits.  That was always the way they'd operated.  His exterior and attitude built a wall around the legitimate Nathaniel Guinness, a man who cared in odd ways.  His expression shifted from the smirk to something more serious, scanning her slowly and methodically, looking for any more hints as to what exactly had happened to her.  He didn't see anything fresh, no bruises or angry cuts.  His assumption remained:  someone had fucked the girl over before, in one way or another.  He didn't stop to think if his question was odd...  He didn't bother to think if it'd make anything worse.  He just asked.  "Is somebody hurtin' you?" Hints of his Irish accent crept into play, eyebrows raising like he was daring her to lie. 

[aurora-bates]

Aurora stared at him. She’d never seen him before in her life. She narrowed her eyes. Aurora wasn’t one to fear strangers, but she didn’t let that make her any less aware of the situation. She pursed her lips, grabbing a box of muffin mix from the shelf with her perfectly manicured nails. She watched him closely, trying to read him as well as she could. Aurora was pretty good at reading people. Even strangers. It had been how she’d started talking to Thomas, who even though she hadn’t seen in a while, she considered to be one of her best friends. But she wasn’t getting that feeling from this man.

Aurora pulled her phone out of her purse, checking for text messages. She looked back up at him. “With your grocery shopping. You look like you’re struggling. I can help you,” she said quickly. She knew he was up to something, but she couldn’t tell what from just that moment.

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

He laughed.  There was something inherently mocking and nearly condescending about it.  He idly scratched his stomach, fingers pushing up the bottom edge of his shirt to do it.  His fingers pushed into the pocket of his jeans as he stood there, the appraising look returning as he glanced over her.

His scan was ever thorough, starting from head and going all the way down to her toes.  Her legs, her hips, the curve of her waist--- it was all taken to account and noted, as if he was sticking a value on her presence directly tied to the way she looked.  He found that more often than not, it caused discomfort; something he enjoyed doing.  "Honey, unless 'help' involves those pretty legs of yours around my waist, I'm not too interested."  At least he was honest?

[lydia-pryce]

Well that was certainly not the response she was hoping for. Lydia felt gutted as she stood in awe of the man’s attitude. She wanted to say something smart back, maybe even scoff and show how appalled she was, but it seemed near impossible in front of him. Especially not when he had that look on his face; as if it were amusing. Lydia’s heart began to beat even faster, and she desperately hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“I,” She opened her mouth to avail, shutting it quickly as her cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry, but I’m sure you could move, too. There’s no need to be so…” Without the right word in mind, Lydia left it at that and looked away. “…rude.” She finally whispered under her breath.

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

His eyes moved back to the redhead, eyebrows lifting as he words trailed off.  His task for the moment suddenly became making her leave.  Perhaps making her turn as red as her hair before she did.  The way her words trailed off into silence spoke more about her than he though she'd know.  

His body turned towards her, no longer facing the cereal.  He tipped his head to the side, amused expression growing across his lips as he stepped closer.  Perhaps too close.  He didn't care much for personal boundaries.  In fact-- he was well aware of them, using people's aversion to proximity to his advantage.  He looked down at her, eyes flickering with the same amusement his lips showed.  "You really should speak up, sweetheart." 

[rviseul-blog]

Though out of school for the summer, Hazel wasn’t in any less of a rush to get home than she would have been had it been only a month earlier. Homework was no longer her major motivator when it came to rushing a grocery store visit, but her younger sister and her deteriorating health still was. With her parents stuck inside for the night, caring for Lavender, it was up to Sterling and her to divide and conquer the grocery list—and all before Hazel’s shift began at her workplace. Needless to say, she was in quite the rush and the older man standing in the middle of the aisle wasn’t helping the matter.

Lips pursed, she allowed him a minute to look around and decide where he wanted to go while she rocked back and forth lightly on her feet from behind him. With the list more than halfway marked off, she had minutes to spare, but she never truly knew if Sterling would have his half finished or not. It didn’t seem as if the older man had a clue which aisle was next for him, however, and Hazel was losing her patience quite quickly. Taking in a deep breath, she cocked her head to the side and glanced upward, inwardly praying that he wouldn’t take her remark the wrong way. “‘Scuse me,” she announced, slight irritation marring her tone. “Ya lost or something?” 

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

Irritation.  He heard it when she spoke, despite words she was saying.  It immediately became a challenge; something to prod at and provoke until she hopefully stormed away in a little bundle of fury and blonde hair.  No one had ever said that Nathaniel Guinness was a kind soul. 

"Entirely."  His tone was dry and all together mocking.  He was well aware of her aim to move him from the way, but he didn't act on it. Instead he just leaned and arm on his cart and looked at her, expression matching his tone.  "But I'm sure I'll make it out alive.  Your concern is so appreciated."

[alanbphoto-deactivated20191007]

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

Nathaniel Guinness vs food.  Episode one.

[lydia-pryce]

Thanks to her father’s endless appetite, Lydia was deprived of her choice breakfast cereal that morning. The normal solution would have been to pick something else to eat, say eggs and some toast, but they had gotten in a fight shortly after, resulting in her need to escape the Pryce household. So, that was how Lydia found herself in the cereal aisle, thinking of a way to politely ask the man in front of her to move so she could grab a box of Rice Krispies and go.

He seemed to be a little lost, and when he turned in her direction, Lydia’s stomach nearly dropped to the floor. It must have been the way he looked that spooked her in some way. Granted, Lydia was jumpy in most situations, anyway. Clearing her throat, she mustered the courage to speak up. “Sorry, could you move please?”

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

A voice pulled him from his heavy contemplation.  His eyes fell to a slight woman.  A slight... terrified looking woman.  A hint of amusement crossed his face, making his lips quirk in the slightest bit.  On anyone else it might have been a sign of something good, maybe even cute.  On Nate, it was far from a good sign.  Instead of unintentionally standing in the middle of the aisle, it suddenly became his mission to stay firmly planted. 

"I'm sure I could." Ever snarky and uncooperative.  He turned his eyes back to the cereal, despite having already found what he was looking for.  He dedicated the next moments of his life to examining the details of the boxes in front of him, the small smirk still holding fast across his lips.

[aurora-bates]

Aurora had needed to go to the grocery store for quite some time. She’s been contemplating going for hours, but things just kept holding her back. Finally she grabbed her purse, finally putting the sheet music away and headed out the door. It was a nice evening outside. Not too hot for the south, but not too cold either. She mentally made a list of the things she needed. She wasn’t sure if she’d be spending the fourth of July with a group of people or just her parents and their friends, so she planned on just grabbing a few things.

When she reached the store, she hummed to herself, going up and down the isles trying to grab what she needed before getting out. She didn’t really want to run into anyone she knew. Aurora wanted to get back to her music as soon as possible. She walked down an isle and looked at directly at a man. He looked stressed. Trying to figure out where he was and what he needed. She chuckled to herself.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, suddenly forgetting what she wanted to get home.

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

The largest debate that could be had was whether Nate's cooking skills were better than his social skills.   He was a man without a filter and a knack for more often leaving people offended and shocked than anything else.  He made a point of keeping other beings at a distance, and thus far had done an outstanding job. 

He looked away from the signs above him to a woman, seemingly directing her question at him.  His eyebrows raised, idly glancing over her for a moment, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was appraising her body.  "Depends on what you're offering." Nate could always be counted on to pull the 'asshole' card. 

[raw-unmedicated-heart]

Twenty-eight years of life and going to the grocery store was still a mix of confusion and frustration for Nate.  His diet consisted of anything that could be microwaved or put in the oven; his cooking skills competing with crumpled tin foil for 'worst cook of eternity'.  The last attempt had resulted in a burnt sauce pan (he never understood exactly how a pot of boiling water could burn) and and emergency call to the nearest restaurant that provided take-out.

He stood silently in an aisle, eyeing the rows of cereal, contemplating the chances of disaster.  With the danger level determined as 'low', he picked up a box with various cartoon characters across it and tossed it into his near empty cart, ignoring the packaging that was most certainly designed for children.  It was at that moment that he realized he'd have to move to another aisle.  The frustration returned as he stood in the middle of the aisle, looking one way and then the other, attempting to determine where he was heading.