#caleraine

[thegutterwelcomesyou-blog]

She watches from the corner of her eye as he stirs, and she’s not sure if he’s even awake until he speaks. Cal says nothing back, only watches. One of his eyes is open, and it is too dark tell if it is the blue or the green one. For some reason, she feels as though it matters, as if one half of him is the strong and silly sniper she loves, and the other is the untamed and impulsive wolf she can’t stand. 

With his hand in hers, she wonders how she might be able to control him, to overpower him. Could she lay atop him and hold him there? Could she force her lips on his? Could she muster any sexual power she had and place his hand on her breast in hopes that in giving herself she might take hold of a part of him? No, Leraine is both too clever and too dignified. 

She turns her head, looks him in his one open eye, and realizes, painfully and for the first time, that she has no power over him. Cal is silent when she stands, lifting his arm as she goes. Swiftly and with decisiveness she places herself underneath it, climbing into the bed beside him and wiggling him aside so she has enough room to be on the mattress. It’s not an invitation but a plea, in the way she ducks her head under his chin and into his chest, curls her arms in front of her and just presents herself to be beside him and not wrapped around him. He has full power to pull away from her, to crawl over her and leave the room, or to shove her off the bed and onto the floor. Should he choose these, though, she’d have no strength but to stay where he had left her.

[abyssalarchmage]

He stares at her in silence until she breaks the eye contact by burrowing in against him, scooting his heavy frame sideways as she slips under his arm. The sniper’s mismatched eyes sink close and he sighs quietly, his body relaxing somehow more than it was even when he was asleep; after countless nights spent sleeping on hard ground in the cold, he appreciates warmth and closeness much more than he will ever voice to anyone. 

Part of it, of course, it that it is her - she is the one thing that can push aside the haze of memory and ugly reality for a time, even when he does not want her to or thinks she cannot; she can and she does it anyway, and for a time when she is with him his mind is not on what lurks on the outside or what he’s done but only on her. 

He is, of course, still a killer, but when he thinks of her he may as well have never touched the trigger of a gun in his life. And so as he allows her to press closer he forgets the fight, all the tension. He forgets everything that isn’t her - Jericho, his best friend’s spiral into the murderous madness that has claimed him (Leraine knows it has, he just refuses to accept it), every trigger pull that has resulted in the loss of an enemy life. He forgets it all, because in the back of his mind there is some small hope that once this war is over, that this - this silence, where time seems to stand still - is all he will know. 

[thegutterwelcomesyou-blog]

veneficusrex

His body is limp and relaxed beside hers and she smiles, relieved tears threatening at her eyelids but they're blinked away quickly. It is not a victory for her, she knows that now. She knows that it is not about winning forgiveness but knowing what you've done wrong that heals. 

"I'm sorry..." She breathes after minutes of laying close to him, finally letting herself pull away and rest her head on the pillow beside him. Facing him, her hand touches his cheek and wanders, combing through his short hair and gently trailing its fingertips over his shoulder. Her eyes are closed, exhausted, but she knows his body. 

"I'm stuck in the past, Leraine." Her voice is quiet, defeated. She knows she can't blame him for anything. "I'm stuck in the past because I'm afraid of being stuck here, I'm afraid I'll never be able to go back and this is all I'll have..." Her fingers trail down his shoulder, his arm, and find his hand and she brings it between them so she can hold it close to her, feel his strength, borrow from it.

"I'm holding onto feelings I have for my... mate... back home." She sighed the words. Luther was a complicated situation she never really went over with Leraine. "Bad ones, and I take them out on you and I shouldn't and I absolutely suck because of it." She feels heavy, like she could sink through the bed at any moment. 

She licks her lips, finally opening her eyes. "I want to fight about the little, petty stuff because I'm afraid of what's more important." She confesses. "I'm scared because I love you and... I haven't known any kind of love I want since my mom died... But I want this and I want you and I'm sorry." 

[thegutterwelcomesyou-blog]

Locked and Loaded || Caleraine

azrielthephantomking

He hand-picked a few weapons for her in the morning; he’d let her try the massive long-range cannon of a rifle he favored (well, not favored, he was best with it but he hated how immobile it made him at times), a medium-weight one that he rather liked as it was a more modernized beam-style weapon rather than shooting conventional lead rounds, though that meant it drew more attention, and a light, highly portable piece that was ideal for situations in which a shooter would be required to change vantage points frequently, though it traded maneuverability for accuracy. And then there was the assortment of handguns, assault rifles and the prototype beam rifles that were good for both kill shots and simply stunning a target. 

Silently he hoped she’d choose this specialty over one of the others, though he truly believed she could have done equally well in something else. Something about her was different, and he wanted to take her under his wing…not just in shooting, but in the field in general. 

En route to the motor pool to load the weapons into a vehicle he halted at the scent of blood; seconds after he’d been alerted a bloodied and dazed Naarkha limped past him down the hall, flanked by two of his buddies. The rivals shared a glance full of mixed messages before the other, clearly the loser of the spar challenge against Ryde, hobbled on his way back to his room, leaning heavily on his silent escorts. Leraine couldn’t help but grin smugly as he turned back around. Ryde had been challenged many times, and never defeated - there was a lingering rage in him that came out in combat, whether his intent was to kill or not, and after a while any belligerents - with the obvious exception - had learned that any challenges to his decisions were best made verbally across a desk, where he would most always consider them or at least explain his reasoning rather than crush his opponent until they begged him to stop. 

Cal was up early again the next morning, enjoying that the showers were always empty at four in the morning. The girls' shower had a small population anyhow, due to the minority of women on base, but she still didn't like the thin and muscular human girls staring at her, wondering how the hell she was deemed as army fit, especially when she was naked.

She showered and did her morning workout, but was interrupted when she heard other people entering the gym. Slowing from her run on the treadmill she noticed Naarkha and his gang, and she all but hid behind the arsenal of machines between them and her. They crossed into another room, a padded room used for sparring, and she saw that he was quickly followed by Ryde. Cal knew without a question what was going to happen, so she finished her workout early and slunk away.

She went back to her room to get ready for the shooting range, even applying a bit of makeup again. As she moved to step out of her room, she could see Naarkha limping down the hallway. He did not see her, so she ducked back into her room for another minute or two before peeking out again. She saw Leraine alone in the hallway instead. 

"Is it safe to come out?" She asked, half-teasing as she stepped towards him, grabbing his arm lightly in a friendly way.