17. Your character walking in on mine having an embarrassing fall.
It was pouring rain so hard that Elu could barely see a foot in front of her. She was going to be late and she hated being late. She sighed as she stepped out of the protection of the door frame of the Drowning Wench walking rather quickly even in the rather high heels she was wearing as she attempted to make it to the next available shelter.
She had almost made it when suddenly someone stepped into her path probably not noticing her through the rain and fog. Elu in her attempt to avoid the woman shifted her weight suddenly her heels sliding on the wet cement and unceremoniously depositing her on her buttocks practically at the woman’s feet.
Illidan was a few minutes out of the shower and dried off and feeling lazy he decided to just lounge around naked.
The sound of the door didn’t even phase him as he wasn’t expecting guests and just assumed it was Shan. It was not until the half demon form of his younger self came into view in the door way that Illidan realised it was not Shan.
He shrugged it wasn’t like other man could tell he was naked anyway.
“You have really got to tell me when you’re planing on coming over, You catch me at the worst times I swear.” He chuckled.
((Written the night seperative was sending Zelos selfies, since that was the last time he was really drunk))
The clatter of an empty bottle falling to the floor drew Zelos’ bleary gaze for a brief moment and he gave his mostly empty glass a contemplative look. He tried to remember how many bottles that was, and how he had managed to go through them so quickly, even if he was drinking specifically to get drunk. The reflection of the light on the glass reminded him again of the reason he was downing glass after glass, a momentary golden glint just like the sunlight on her hair.
Across the room, his phone lay in shattered fragments, thrown in a fit of frustrated rage at how helpless he was. That smile wasn’t hers, not anymore, and seeing her face arranged in a shadowy mimicry of the smiles she used to give him only made it worse. He downed the last of his glass and reached around for another bottle, thoroughly intent on blacking out before the night was through. The peace of oblivion was a welcome change from reality, a world where she was no longer there to walk by his side, as people instead of titles.
There was a sound that he could not place right away, and he looked around, hand rising automatically to support his head as the room swam before his eyes at the sudden motion. A familiar face stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the hallway. His own room was dark, the curtains drawn to shut out the light, and the world. For a long moment he stared at her, trying to pull up her name from the deep recesses he had sunk into.
“…Yuri” he managed sluggishly, and he pushed at the bottles beside him to clear a space, but the motion threw him off balance and he ended up falling nearly onto his face. “…why’re you here?” he slurred. A small part of his brain felt ashamed that she would catch him like this, drinking himself to forgetfulness. They were close in some aspects, but not close enough that he had really let her see him weak like this. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. “‘m sorry…” he muttered. He didn’t want her to see him like this, fragile and broken.
“So your ex husband is a drunk” he mumbled. “Guess you got off easy, cuttin’ that marriage short, huh?” he laughed weakly. He realized there was wetness on his cheeks, the remnants of tears he did not even remember crying. Another droplet leaked from the corner of his eye and he wiped it guiltily away. It was bad enough to be drunk in front of Yuri, but now he was crying. He didn’t raise his head to meet her gaze, not wanting to see pity, or worse, contempt on her face. He couldn’t take rejection right now, not from her, the one he suddenly realized he had grown quite fond of. Her visits were a breath of fresh air, no expectations from his title. The idea of losing her in his life made his heart clench, and his fingers clenched involuntarily in response, tightening around the now empty glass.
He had no words to offer her, no excuses. He had done this to himself, and he was not proud of it, but that was the truth. Releasing the glass, he drew his legs closer to himself and rested his arm across them, dropping his head down to rest his forehead against it. His head was swimming, but there was one clear thought repeating in his mind. Yuri was important to him and he didn’t want her to walk out of his life. “I’m sorry” he whispered hoarsely, though he was not even sure what he was apologizing for at this point.
4. Your character walking in on mine in the shower.
The mirror was already steamed over from the heat of the water he’d left running, and he was glad that he was spared the trouble of looking at himself as he stripped away his clothing, letting it fall into an untidy heap. His curls were a mess of snarls from the wind, and he sat on the edge of the tub to detangle the worst of the knots with his fingers, letting the sound of the falling water drown out the whispers in his mind, though they could never be truly silenced. He could muffle them, distract himself from their poisonous repetitive chants, but he could never silence them. He would hear her voice until the day he died, voicing his own doubts and always repeating that familiar mantra. “You should never have been born.”
His fingers ran smoothly through the curls now, no longer catching on snarls. He was uncertain just how long he had been sitting there, but the room was full of steam, the air damp as he breathed in. Kicking aside the pile of clothing, he stood and opened the shower door to be greeted by a wall of concentrated steam. He let it wash over him, a purifying wave of heat as he stepped under the nearly scalding water. His skin rapidly became nearly as red as his hair, but the heat was somehow cathartic, burning away the long day of pointless smiles and empty arguments. It was a long moment before he moved at all, eyes closed as he stood under the stream of water. For this quiet moment, he was not expected to be anyone he was not, or lie with a smile.
He leaned idly against the wall of the shower, enjoying the soothing sensation of the water through his hair, running in rivulets down his back as it streamed through his sodden curls. The sound of the door opening prompted him to open his eyes and push himself upright, automatically alert. Sebastian never bothered him in the shower. He pulled the shower door open and found himself face to face with a now furiously flushing Sheena.
“Well now who is the pervert?” he teased lightly, a smirk forming on his lips despite the absolute lack of clothing. Sheena had spun around abruptly to avert her gaze, but even the tips of her ears were pink in embarrassment. “I’m sure you have a perfectly good reason to come in here, hm? Coming to join me perhaps?”
8. Your character walking in on mine in a revealing costume.
As far as dares went, this one was pretty tame. Hilda had certainly come up with worse in the past, and she was the only one he had to model the outfit for, but he still eyed the flimsy material suspiciously. Unless he was mistaken, it appeared to be some sort of skirt, and a short one at that. There were garters and stockings as well, and what appeared to be a waist cincher coupled with a low cut top with flared sleeves.
“What is this, a faux maid outfit for a stripper?” he wondered aloud. What a stupid outfit for Hilda to pick, but he supposed she had picked other pointless costumes for him in the past. It was pretty common for them to dare each other to wear something unusual. He’d dared her to wear a bag on her head all day once, but her father had put a stop to that one. He’d made her eat a particularly spicy pepper as punishment for cutting it short and she’d been in tears from the heat for nearly half an hour. She told him it had been a week before her taste buds returned to normal. She’d threatened to cut his hair if he ever tried something like that again.
The skirt was even shorter than he had expected, barely covering anything at all. “What the hell is the point in a skirt like this” he complained as he stretched the stockings in attempt to pull them on. The waist cincher was a little tight also, constricting his breathing. At least he wouldn’t have to wear this long. He twisted his hair into a braid and glanced into the mirror to see the full effect of the outfit, but his gaze settled instead on something, or rather someone, behind him.
“Lloyd” he managed, trying hard to fight the urge to bolt. Hilda seeing him in this stupid revealing maid outfit was one thing, but Lloyd was another story all together. His throat was dry suddenly and he found it hard to meet the brunette’s gaze, all too aware of just how exposed he was in that ridiculously short skirt. “Uh…well.” He searched for words, but found none, offering nothing but a hapless shrug as he shifted toward his usual outfit in hopes of using his jacket to at least maintain some semblance of decency.
5. Your character walking in on mine waking from a nightmare.
There was blood in the air, on his skin, staining the pristine snow around him with a crimson hue. He could taste the coppery tang in his mouth, smell the heavy scent of the blood mingling with the familiar perfume, though he struggled to draw each breath under the heavy weight that suddenly crushed him. His limbs were heavy, his heartbeat erratic as he drew frantic, shallow breaths, eyes wide as he struggled to comprehend the now red snowfall descending around him. He was trapped, pinned beneath the weight of something warm and wet, something his terrified mind refused to comprehend as a possibility.
Her hand was on his shoulder now, her grip strong and painful as she struggled to move, to sit up. He could already feel his shoulder bruising, and he wanted to cry out but his voice was frozen in his throat. All he could do was stare helplessly at the red, so much red, spreading and staining the snow around them. A crimson trickle leaked from the corner of her mouth as she looked directly into his face, finally seeing him instead of looking through him as if he were made of glass. She laughed, a horrible gurgling sound that turned into coughing, more red blossoming on her lips, her grip on his shoulder even more painful now.
Her lips moved, her face white with pain as she strained to speak. He wanted to call out to her, to reassure her, to reassure himself that she was all right, but the words were frozen, trapped by the metallic taste on his tongue. With effort, she finally managed to breathe “You should never have been born.” His heart stopped, and for one long, agonizing moment, the world was frozen in stasis, a silent void of crimson and white. She slumped forward again, her weight pinning him in place even more efficiently than her words had.
He woke with a cry, trapped and tangled within his own bed sheets, unable to move his limbs, the same paralysis he had experienced on that terrible day. The mounds of pillows he usually found comforting were suffocating, heaped around him in a terrifying dark mass. It was a long moment before his panic settled enough for him to work at extricating him from the sweat-soaked sheets, breathing still uneven. He could still taste blood and suspected he had bitten his own lip at some point. Running one hand through his disheveled hair, he froze mid-gesture at the realization that he was not alone. His eyes traveled over the familiar face, meeting the kunoichi’s gaze briefly before dropping away. He never wanted her to see him like this, weak and lonely, battling the demons of his mind in the dead of the night.
“…how long have you been there?” he whispered hoarsely, fingers clenching in the twisted sheets beside him. He wiped away the trace of blood on his lips and swept the disheveled remnants of the braid from his hair, letting the damp curls fall freely around his shoulders, shrouding his face. Between the shadows and his hair, it would be impossible for her to read his expressions, or see the remnants of tear stains on his cheeks. “It’s the middle of the night you know” he muttered, when she didn’t answer right away.
"Damnit… same god damned nightmare…" Buxton groaned to himself as he sat up in his bed, just having woke up. He kept having the same nightmare over and over, and it’s been getting to him.
Abby cleared her throat uncomfortably, avoiding Phil’s gaze. She hated that disappointed look he gave her whenever she did anything like this. Darcy looked entirely unperturbed, sitting casually in the chair beside Abby’s.
“In my defense—”
“You tased an agent, Abby.”
“On accident?” she defended in a small voice, her tone uncertain.
“Yeah, come on, Phil, buddy. Give the kid a break,” Darcy appealed in an untroubled tone, “She’s never handled a taser before.”
“You’re not in any position to be making appeals, Miss Lewis,” Phil chided, his arms crossed, “Let’s not forget that it was your taser she was using. Agent Haley hit his head as he fell and he’s in the medbay getting patched up as we speak.”
“Oh, world’s smallest violin,” Darcy protested, much to Abby’s distress, “The guy was a dick.”
“Darcy, it’s cool,” Abby insisted quietly. She shot a terrified glance in Phil’s direction; she would never be afraid of Phil himself, but she wasn’t exactly fond of getting in trouble, and she couldn’t help but feel like Darcy was just digging them into a deeper hole.
“Miss Lewis, the integrity of the agent is not the issue here,” Phil replied, “The fact of the matter is that you lent a weapon to Miss Logan here, and she misused it, resulting in the injury of a government employee. Disciplinary actions must be taken.”
“Pfft. Whatever,” Darcy shrugged, adjusting in her seat and crossing her arms. Abby stared incredulously, marveling at her nonchalance. She could only guess how often Darcy must be in here if she was so calm about it.
“Look, Phil, it was an accident,” Abby appealed pleadingly, “I didn’t mean to tase him, and I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never touch another taser ever again without proper supervision. And you can’t blame Darcy for me tasing someone. Can you please just go easy on us here?”
She donned her best puppy-dog eyes, and Phil pursed his lips. With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms.
“All right, fine; I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he conceded in a resigned tone, “But I won’t be this lenient again. And I’m confiscating this—” he held up the taser “—until further notice. You’re free to go.”
Abby shot out of her chair at lightning speed, racing out of her room as quickly as she could, but Darcy trailed behnd at a much more casual pace. As soon as the door closed behind them, Darcy cracked a grin and nudged Abby with her elbow.
“Nice shot.”
“It was an accident!” Abby protested, although she couldn’t help but smile herself, “Haley really is an ass, though, isn’t he?”
