>> out of confessional ;;
Whoo, well, here's a blog I haven't touched in a while.
See I picked up some new followers, er...somehow.
How are you all? Been remembering to take care of yourselves?
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@to-sin-no-more
>> out of confessional ;;
Whoo, well, here's a blog I haven't touched in a while.
See I picked up some new followers, er...somehow.
How are you all? Been remembering to take care of yourselves?
duxpathos replied to your post: - - > { out of confessional } Jordynn, I’m still...
{ outofbravado. } BECAUSE IT’S PERFECT. XD
- - > { out of confessional }
IT IS, I JUST. I KEEP REMEMBERING THAT AND CRACKING UP AT RANDOM TIMES, LIKE, DAMN IT JIM. HE'S A PRIEST.
- - > { out of confessional }
Jordynn, I'm still crying over the fact that your tag for these two is 'don't knock it 'til you try it' I just --
[ A sigh of amusement escaped the captain’s lips, a sound slightly tinged with exasperation. It had nearly become the blonde’s sole purpose to get the man to unwind and have a little fun; relax. Something that was proving more and more difficult with each passing day. But, since the other was actually allowing him to even have this moment, Jim was going to consider this a big step forward. ]
❝ Chill. You’d be a lot happier if you’d just let go. Plus, you know I don’t like the cold, and you insisted we search for the second hive of those bastards. So, either you keep me warm, or you listen to me complain. ❞
[ That was easier said than done for the other man Jim assumed, knowing that it was the complete opposite for himself. Listening to the captain whine and complain about the freeze of the night was something he had put the elder man through enough times to make his last statement almost seem like a threat- it wasn’t, but it was still deterring. Jim’s hands came up to tuck under himself, knowing that they would be the most likely to get frostbitten, angling his body a little better so it was more comfortable for the both of them. Did he mention he hated the cold? ]
To be quite honest, neither of those options sounded agreeable to him; he remained slightly off-balance and unsure of himself at the other's proximity, and the way he rest against him could cost them precious seconds of disentangling themselves were an attack to come in the night. How the boy could encourage him to relax at a time like this was beyond him; let go? No, he thought not. Those were simply luxuries that he, himself, could not be afforded, regardless of Jim's...advice on the matter.
"Both ideas are equally disagreeable to me," he murmured; but he sounded somewhat defeated, as if he recognized the futility in arguing with the other. Had they not already had such a long day, he might lecture the other about why he could not simply let go, as the younger man wished for him to do - but no doubt he would not listen, and the energy and breath would be wasted upon it. "But, given no third option - " - besides, perhaps, just knocking Jim out cold and risking having to protect his unconscious body - " - I will relent and subject myself to the former." That being that he would allow Jim to remain close; the desert nights, he would admit, did get very, very cold, and they could not afford to light a fire so close to the Hive. The shared body heat, perhaps, was a blessing in disguise.
[ A continued puff of breath, one that made the young captain’s chest vibrate, passed through his lips, slightly muffled by the robes of the other; a chuckle. He knew good an well that intimacy was not something Priest indulged in, ever, and it was the blonde’s knowledge of this made made him so touchy-feely with the other man. Honestly, he was like this with everyone he grew close to, no matter the circumstances; he just liked to touch. Jim shifts slightly, burying his nose in the coarse fabric of Priest’s chest, that grin only growing wider. He’s wanted to do this for a long time, and if the elder started to ask questions as to why he wasn’t letting go, then he had the excuse of being cold. When night fell here it turned into a sandy, frozen wasteland, and Kirk hated the cold. ]
❝ If that means that I always get what I want, then yeah. Don’t lie; you like it. ❞
It was, indeed, more than unusual for the Priest to find himself in a situation such as this; thus, he was quite uncertain of how to proceed. Jim, on the other hand, seemed quite in his element, and during the clergyman's indecision, only seemed inclined to nestle closer. Though he was, admittedly, enjoying the contact, that was hardly the point of the matter, and so he he frowned in a somewhat disapproving manner at the words. "Regardless of my own opinion on the matter, my vows do not encourage - " - even if they didn't strictly forbid - " - this level of physical intimacy." The words felt...cold on his lips, like a foreign thing; physical intimacy? He sounded like a machine. But he didn't dare try to phrase it any other way - it was a wonder he'd gotten through the reprimand without blushing the first time.
[ Of course it didn’t work. Numerous times the Priest had attempted to teach him, build on the fighting prowess that Jim already had; but that was something the blonde knew was never going to happen. The kid was at the peak of his ability in his opinion, and while he would have liked to be more coordinated; more powerful; better in general, he didn’t really care right now. The captain didn’t hop up, didn’t make a move at the other immediately; all he did was lay there in the sand, staring up at the blue sky with squinted eyes. A glint of mischief appeared in azure eyes. Eh, why not. His boot kicked out, catching the back of the other’s leg to hook and bring him down. Only bring Priest down. When he accomplished such, the younger lurched forward to plunk himself down on the other’s chest; ear pressed against a heart beat. Lips curled upwards, knowing that the religious man wasn’t much one for cuddles. But Jim was, and it was getting dark, and he was tired. So the other could suck it up. ]
❝ How about… now. ❞
To be honest, he had not expected the sudden sweep of Jim's leg; it took him by surprise, and he went down rather easily, shifting to fall in a manner to minimize any damage he might take, a matter of habit more than anything else. When Jim lunged at him, his first instinct was to throw the other off, and perhaps to gut him, but he refrained, allowed the other to settle somewhat atop him, and frowned softly, as if questioning the man's sudden choice of pillow. The words brought no immediate response, except for a vague gesturing of the Priest's arms as he tried to decide exactly where he was supposed to arrange them in this sudden press of bodies. Did he wrap one around Jim? It seemed too intimate, but to lay with his arms behind his head felt too vulnerable. There was no answer that seemed acceptable to him, but he did not doubt in the slightest that Jim would put up a fight should he decide to try and remove him from his person, to initiate some space between them. "You are, at times, absolutely irreverent in your whims." He retorted with an air of exasperation, before finally settling upon the former option, and draping an arm around Kirk in a purely companionable, if slightly protective fashion.
To feel safe again, look over your shoulder; very carefully look over your shoulder. [Kirk/Priest]
Jim instinctively jerked away when fingers wrapped around his wrist. but even if he’d been at full health, he wouldn’t have been able to yank his arm free. Breathing becoming a little more labored, the captain leaned away from the robed man, cerulean eyes narrowed with irritation. He hated the fact that he wasn’t even strong enough to ward off this person. Being weaker was a pet peeve of his; if he was weak, if he couldn’t maintain power, than he would lose control. That was something he absolutely despised. This man was, unknowingly, taking that comforting thought away from him; that safety line. The blonde couldn’t be mad at him for it, because Priest was, after all, only trying to help.
A low hiss escaped his lips when the alcohol made contact with his wound, body going rigid. The sting of the liquid was enough to make him nearly black out; he had to grip the iron bars with the hand that wasn’t currently in a death grip, steadying himself until he was able to see clearly once more. There was no way he’d be of any use to this man. He could barely kill the damn beast before, and the only reason he did was because there was limited space; or he assumed that was the reason. Maybe he just got lucky.
❝ —-ah! Dude… ❞ He made a minuscule movement away from Priest, just two steps to the side since the cell bars were directing behind him. Wrap it? Shit. He was already nauseated enough as it is, but in order to keep the injury from bleeding, it would need to be covered. Of course he would do it himself, his pride was shot to pieces enough as it is. However, when he went to move, he found that his legs wobbled, and he didn’t feel like having a surprise meeting with the floor.
❝ Might need… you t’ do it. ❞ He swallowed thickly, suppressing the bile from rising any farther. Tomorrow, if he got the proper nutrients and a good night’s sleep, he should be good as new. It was just right now that he had to get through first.
Ah. There. The man lifted the burning stick, and lit the rag; once it was properly aflame, he drew his arm back, and threw - the bottle sailed through the night air, and landed well back from the row of houses, directly in the midst of a small pack of the creatures they were supposed to be fighting. They scrambled over each other, trying to get away from the heat and light, tripping and throwing sand as they grappled and snarled, fighting to get away first. Mindless beasts.
Just as it looked that they might get away, the burning rag reached the alcohol inside and ignited; for a few moments it looked as if nothing further would happen - until one of the stupid creatures swiped at the bottle, throwing it against an outcropping of rock, where it exploded, glass and flames shooting from the section. What it did not kill, it wounded, the vampires scattering, growling and snapping at one another even still in their haste.
Shaking his head, he turned at the man's words, and looked him over; if he had had any belief in the fact that Jim might be of some assistance to him in this fight, he rescinded it now. Pale as a sheet, and likely less useful, currently. "Very well," he murmured, moving from the open window, but keeping a wary eye on it. Lifting the strips of cloth from before, he shifted to the man's side and gestured for him to remove his shirt so he could begin properly bandaging him. The extra cloth would only get in the way and may cause the bandages to be too loose, allowing dirt or other contaminants into the wound to cause an infection, and that was the last thing this man needed.
They would not be travelling tonight, even the short distance from the Sheriff's post to Hicks's home; he doubted Jim could make it. "We will remain here. You are not well enough for travel," he stated calmly; there was no room for argument in the tone, but he did not seem angry. If anything, he simply seemed...tired. Not physically, but world-weary, battle-weary. This event was not uncommon, and every time it occurred, more lives were lost. Perhaps if he could keep even just this one man safe and alive, for the rest of the night, he would find some rest come morning.
Until then..."You should rest." Once he was bandaged up, of course. "I will keep watch, and help as I can from here." While he would prefer to be helping the fight properly, he would not dare to abandon Jim here alone again. Perhaps he could lure them here, and clear them one by one as they were forced to line up to try and get through the window...He mulled over the though, twisting the makeshift bandages in his hands.
» From One Disaster to Another { marinesnotpoets & to-sin-no-more }
John didn’t feel the need to defend himself, why he wanted to be sure he could trust this man. He’d just walked out a situation that he’d walked in to behind a man he’d thought he could follow. Turned out he wasn’t the man John thought he was, and he wasn’t willing to do that again.
This was unfamiliar territory to the marine, but the Priest knew this place, and he knew it damn well. If John was going to trust anyone, he hoped this was the right guy, he’d sure come in handy. Then again, the idea that a lot of people wanted the guy dead didn’t bring about a lot of hope. Reaper, luckily, was an open minded person though, and from what he’d heard about the people’s reactions to the Priest just by what he was, he could probably see a few reasons they might want him dead, or at least see him as some kind of nightmare.
Such a thought almost pushed a smirk through his lips, only just managing to refrain, his lips quivering just slightly none the less. It was amusing to think that he’d managed to find someone who could be seen as some sort of nightmare when he himself could as well.
But what the Priest explained to him, about this man he’d been hearing about from his overhearing of Hick’s and Isaac’s conversation, made all form of amusement fade from the RRTS member’s features, creating only the look of thought, concentration, but sternness. A man who looked like John had ‘changed’, didn’t that sound a little familiar? ”Changed? I’m guessin’ you don’t mean he just ‘changed his mind’” John repeated, not quite willing to just let the comment slide, even though he knew the Priest wasn’t wanting to talk about this. He didn’t want to push the guy further, but some things were making him all the more curious, and he needed to know.
One thing he did keep from the question, was emotion. He wanted facts, and despite what people might think about Reaper, he did have some moral code.
"It’s never easy losin’ one of your men" He simply said, but his deep down a little quieter than it had been, though booming none the less as his head turned to the side. He could understand why the Sheriff and Isaacs had been so hostile the moment they’d seen him, probably thinking he was other guy come back. It was a strange notion, knowing there was someone there before you who looked liked you. Hell, did he act like him?
So far he wasn’t getting the best vibe about this place, everything about it just yelled disaster, even his face was causing him trouble. Even now his thoughts wandered momentarily to his sister, she’d have a field day if he’d said that out loud. God, he missed her. Why had it taken all of this for him to realise that?
"You would be correct in your assumption." Changed his mind? Hardly. Isaacs only wished it had been that simple; if that had been the case, perhaps there would have been more he could have done. Perhaps there was more he could have done before; he commented no further on the matter, folding his hands patiently upon the tabletop, fingers interlacing. Slowly, his eyes slid back to the other; he had to get used to the sight, he supposed, and he would not do that by avoiding looking at the other.
It was incredible; a face he thought he'd never see again, come back to haunt him, twice. What sort of cruel fate was this, to be twice subjected to such? It was difficult to discuss the matter with someone who so closely resembled the man they spoke of, but the other's detachment helped some. If they could both remain impartial, and simply give the information that was desired, then perhaps they could both get through this relatively unscathed, and with their pride intact.
The sentiment, all the same, was one he appreciated, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement of it, frowning softly, though not necessarily in a negative reaction to the words - merely, it was made clear by his expression that he understood, and by the words, he knew that it was a turn of events that John, himself, was not unfamiliar with, even had he not already heard the story of the recent events on Mars. "On that one point, I believe we may both agree."
After that, the Priest fell relatively silent; since joining the clergy, it was not difficult to admit that conversation just for the sake of itself was not something that came easily to him anymore - the fact of the matter was, he and his Brothers and Sisters in the Church rarely spoke out of anything more than sheer necessity, to convey a point or an order, or to raise a query. Mindless banter was not in their natures, and they avoided it, lest it give rise to...other pursuits.
Once, he had tried to close the gaps between them, to tighten the bonds that held them together and knit them closed, to turn their separate patchwork pieces into a functioning whole. But that idea had died with the man they had spoken of so often tonight, and the silence they had sought to drive out had settled more heavily than ever upon those who still wandered the hallowed halls they all shared. Shaking off the thoughts, he turned his eyes to the other once more, tilting his head in something that might pass as curiosity.
"What are your intentions for the duration of your stay here?" After all, they had no real way of knowing how to return him whence he came, or if it was something even possible for them to do; in the meantime, he doubted the soldier would be content to simply sit around the shack that had represented a temporary prison for him. And there was still the matter of informing the others about this man - though, the reluctance to reveal his presence to them only seemed to be growing, a fact for which he felt almost...ashamed, as if he were hiding something of importance from them. Perhaps he was. Protocol would have dictated that he drag this man with him to the city immediately, and present him to them, where they could all come to a joint decision on what to do with him.
Surely they would see, as he did, that they must endeavor to find a way to return this man to his home? So then, why the reluctance to reveal John's existence to them? It showed a lack of trust, on his part, of their ability to come to the rational decision - and, were he being quite honest with himself, he would come to the conclusion that that was, in fact, the case. He simply did not trust the others as he once did. Things were not as they once were, and Isaacs felt...oddly alone.
Introduced by a friend of a friend; smiled and said,
"Yes, I think we've met before." [ x ]
To feel safe again, look over your shoulder; very carefully look over your shoulder. [Kirk/Priest]
Jim could here those things still moving outside, running in and out of abandoned houses, searching for stragglers that they may have missed; some far, some close. The captain was really in no mood to fight more of those vampires — no. Whatever the hell those beasts were, they weren’t vampires. No ideas and fours legs are a long shot from blood red eyes and two legs. Hellhounds is what they reminded him most of, so that is what he would be calling them through the duration of his little nightmare. Yeah, a nightmare. That’s what this was. A bad dream that he couldn’t wake himself up from.
Now, Jim wasn’t one to complain about a knife to the back, or a phaser blast to the leg, but when it came to the little things he couldn’t handle it. That alcohol was going to sting like a bitch, and he was nauseated enough as it is. Surely the gash would be fine until they were able to get to this Lucy person so he can be all patched up. So, the captain shook his head in a dismissive manor.
❝ M’fine. It’s nothing. Once we’re done here and we get to that Lucy girl you were talking about I’ll get it fixed. Right now it’ll just waste time. ❞
However, he knew that there was a possibility that Priest would just sterilize and temporarily fix him anyway, so the blonde tenses, eyeing the other and the rag drenched in alcohol with wariness. And for added comfort, he leaned against the metal bars of the jail cell behind him. Truth be told, he was slowly losing his ability to stand with each passing moment. The more he let his adrenaline drop, the more likely it was that he was going to drop himself. Priest better make a decision real quick or he’s gong to be carrying an out cold Jim Kirk around on his shoulder.
Isaacs was, and always had been, a quite patient man; the fact that this young man in front of him was denying treatment and trying to impress upon him the importance of time, though, was testing that patience. He carefully pulled the rag from the bottle and eased closer to the other man, shaking his head firmly. "We do not leave this house until some sort of covering has been fashioned." He tried to reason. "Any number of things could infect the wound and cause you later problems." He sat the bottle aside and grabbed Jim's wrist in a gentle, but firm grip, easing it up so he could take a look at the gash.
Frowning, he wasted no time in sliding the alcohol soaked rag along the edges, before pressing it firmly over the wound; he kept his hand on the man's wrist to keep him from jerking away, but released him a moment later, backing off slightly and wringing out the bloodied rag over at the sink; he gestured to the strips of cloth he had ripped from his cloak. "You reek of blood; it would only have attracted their attention. Can you wrap yourself, or do you require my assistance?"
The Priest was keeping an eye on the other, trying to ascertain the true severity of his condition, but it was hard to tell. He did know that the other looked tired, though, and if he thought he was going to be much use fighting vampires tonight, he was wrong.
"Are you certain you will not allow me to simply escort you to Lucy now?" He questioned mildly, though there was a hint of urgency in his tone; whatever decision they came to, he would prefer to come to it quickly; the night was wearing on, and those creatures would not pause in their endeavors while he and Jim chatted.
Moving, he grabbed another rag and tucked it down into the bottle of alcohol, sliding the bloodied one into a pocket - it might come of some later use. They were dealing with vampires, after all...Dampening the new rag with alcohol, he moved over to the stove, and the low-burning embers inside. Carefully removing a burning stick from the fire, he eased over to the window, stick poised to light the rag, expression thoughtful; it would cause a small explosion, of that he was sure, and so he needed to throw it where it would cause as much damage to the vampires as possible, while minimizing damage to the town...He calculated the risks while he waited on Jim's decision.
» From One Disaster to Another { marinesnotpoets & to-sin-no-more }
With the time it took for the other man to formulate the beginning of his explanation, John knew the topic wasn’t as easy as he might have first thought. Punished for being foolish? That didn’t sound about right, but he knew there’d be more behind it, whatever this man had gone through, it seemed to still linger in his mind somewhere, like a haunting. John knew that feeling all too well himself.
Stepping out of the doorway, Reaper made his way to the side of the room he’d managed to get a couple of hours sleep from before, but sleep was the last thing on his mind right now. He wanted to know more about this man, he doubted he’d feel much more comfortable here not knowing. If there was a reason this guy was wanted dead by people, he wanted to know why. Should he be wanting to kill him as well?
It was a good question, and he needed to know sooner rather than later. What he did get in return wasn’t much. So far about this man, he knew he was authority, whether it made sense to John or not, this Priest seemed to be the big boss around here, to the people of this world. Silent authority, there if needed, and if needed, dire times were ahead. He’d figured out that much.
Whatever had happened between these two guys, John was curious, suspicious even. If someone wanted to kill this man, he wanted to know exactly why. A thought that repeated in his mind once more. "There any reason I should feel the same?" John simply asked in a plain manner, his lips pursing just lightly as he thought, eyes narrowing. It was a question that required a good answer, one that at least made the RRTS member know this man wasn’t the bad guy here. After all, how could John know for sure? Sarge was supposed to be one of the ‘good guys' as some might see it, he turned out to be no better than the damn creatures.
Leaning down, he sat himself in what appeared to have become his spot. Planting his butt on the thick black vest beneath him as he just lay against the creaking wood of the wall. So the Priest wanted to know about what had happened back on Mars, the whole mission still clear as a bell to him, he still had the damn blood on his clothes.
"There’s not much else to tell. One by one the RRTS fell, either mutilated or infected. No one survived down there. Sarge made damn sure nobody got out” He admitted shaking his head from side to side, a tightening of his muscles strengthening along his jawline, enough to grit his teeth roughly against one another. "There were some good men and women down there. That place is Hell, it always has been” He blinked, his heart aching as the memories of his parents flooded back to him as he thought of that confounded facility.
He could still hear the screams of his parents as they fell to their death, the cries of his sister who he’d had to grab out the way from following them. With tears streaming down his young cheeks, the young John had held on to Sam with all his strength, cradling the broken girl in his arms. That had been the moment everything changed for him, he was, who he was now, because of that day. Twenty years later, same place, he was defined yet again. “The dig should never’ve been reopened”
Evidently there was plenty to be said, the trouble was, much like the Priest himself, it was getting the full story out of him that was the difficult part.
There any reason I should feel the same?
Ahh, so there was the real question; that was what John was really getting at. Assessing if he was a threat, still, if he wanted him dead - but really, if he, or Hicks, or anyone else in the near vicinity had wanted him to die, they'd have simply left him to wander in the desert, until he died of dehydration, or something found him. All the same, he doubted that answer would satisfy the man, and so he mulled over it; how could he prove he was not a threat to the man in any manner other than his actions? He had not attacked him while he was sleeping, he had not at any point showed any sort of real aggression towards him...But the full details of the story were not one he was ready to disclose just yet. Isaacs was silent for a while, and listened instead to the man's recounting of his time in Mars.
Some good men and women - he didn't miss the stress on the word. Then there were those who weren't so benevolent present as well; and indeed, this Sarge fellow seemed to have caused problems for the marine in front of him. He nodded quietly as he listened, but his expression twisted into a faint hint of confusion at the words; The dig should've never been reopened.
What was that about, then? What dig? Was the dig the cause of whatever disaster had befallen this man and his team? It was an interesting concept, to be sure. His eyes slid along the other, a pale shade of blue, quiet, contemplative. The other looked somewhat spent, tired still despite the small amount of sleep they had both gotten, and he looked...softer, somehow, than Isaacs had before realized - not soft in the same manner that children were soft, but more akin to...something like a reptile, perhaps, with armor to protect it, but a soft underbelly, and vulnerability hidden under a thin layer of scales.
John, Isaacs was beginning to think, was not half so strong as he was pretending to be, in anything other than a physical sense.
After a long moment of silence, the Priest spoke up again, voice quiet between them; and this time, he did not look quite at John as he spoke, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to face him, and his resemblance of the man he spoke of.
"We were both members of the clergy, and there was...an accident. I was not strong enough to help him, and we thought him dead - when we found him again, he was...bitter." The words came slowly, as if it took real, physical effort to draw them forward and offer them to the other man - Isaacs was not a man to bare his heart, and he refused to do so now. The bare minimum - that was what he would tell. "He had...changed, and not for the better, and he felt resentment towards me; and so, we fought."
He hoped that that would be enough to satisfy the other; if not, then it would be unfortunate, because he thought himself incapable of recounting more intimate details of that encounter tonight. Already he imagined he could taste the acrid smoke from the train mixing with the blood in his mouth in a sickening cocktail that made his stomach lurch to recall. Isaacs was white-knuckled and tight-lipped, his fingers curled together, the short nails digging slightly into the cloth that wrapped his hands, as if trying to find the tender flesh beneath, to scratch and claw in some odd form of brutal penitence for the shame of fighting with one he'd called Brother.
Had there been another option? At the time, the solution had seemed clear, if unpleasant, but now, sometimes, in the dark, he wondered if there had been another path, some unseen branch of the road he might have tread that might have saved the man - that might have saved them both. The conclusions were rarely pleasant, and often blasphemous, and he avoided the train of thought for now, eventually raising his eyes to look the other over once more in the almost sickly yellow glow of a lamp in the corner, spilling light that more of oozed than illuminated, pooling around objects and casting long shadows.
Watched Priest last week, did some doodles. Those vampires are utterly ass-ish to draw.
duxpathos replied to your post: OutOfConfessional: [Sometimes I think about...
[ outofbravado. ] DO IT BABY. *whispers* but you need to let me design the layout of your blog if you do because i LOVE doing that. and i need something creative to do other than writing. so yeah. or i can do your priest one????
OutOfConfessional:
[Oh dear. I, ah. Oh. Um. Well, I think I...I think I just might! We will see. And if I do, and if you're inclined, you're welcome to do the layout of it because I absolutely suck at that quite obviously.
And by 'I might' I mean I'll probably go make it right the fuck now because wow Bones is great.]
OutOfConfessional:
[Sometimes I think about making a Bones blog because I am a born and bred Georgia boy from a long line of medical professionals and going into a medical field myself and we're practically the same person, honestly. Also I love him.
But there are already so many good ones ahhhh.]
( Bastard. Of course this would be leading the young captain into a trap, but he would amuse the Priest nevertheless. A slight role of his eyes before he lunged for the other man, nowhere near as neat and precise as the holy man’s technique. But it got results. It wasn’t going to work so well against Isaacs, With a starting right feign and a bluffing left swing, he instead went to knee Priest in the gut. Halfway through his stupid plan, he realized just how exhausted he was. The blonde wasn’t as accustomed to traveling the desert as the man in robes was. )
❝ I suggest that we take a nap after this. ❞
If there was one thing Isaacs had a sharp eye for, it was for picking out the trajectory of a target; it was a lesson he had given Jim upon their first meeting, and it was one the man had, he had thought, had taken to heart. But if he had, he had apparently forgotten who his teacher had been. The movement to the right was an obvious feint; the double bluff, he would admit, was clever, but he had a sharp eye for this, and the subtle movement, the shift of body weight, oh, it was a dead give away. Up until that point, Isaacs had not moved a muscle, had seemed content to stay still and allow the other at least one hit in - but the moment Jim's knee came up, the Priest's hand went down. He did not reach for the knee to stop its upward movement, but instead reached beneath it, curving his body so that his gut curled inward, away from the incoming blow, and gave him the leverage he would need, feet shifting just slightly in the unsteady sand to give him a better stance. His fingers, with deft precision, slid beneath the man's knee, to the bend of it, and jerked upwards, following with the motion the young man had, himself, initiated rather than trying to stop or slow it, attempting to use his own upwards movement and weight against him to throw him off balance, and perhaps throw him to the desert sand once more. The words brought a slight curve to his lips, even as Isaacs released the other and stepped back, ready for any further aggression from Jim. "As, and when, you please, Jim."
Drabble: You were the prettiest thing I ever stole. [Hicks/Lucy]
In the sunlight, Lucy was radiant.
In her best church dress she would spin, kick up the desert sand when she ran, laughing, from him, making for the safety of the truck so she could lock him out; and while she was fast, he was always faster, catching her, swinging her around in his arms even as she beat at his shoulders and shrieked for him to put her down this instant, you brute. The sun would dance across the strands of her hair, and he would be dazzled by the light reflected in her eyes; and the warmth of her smile, it beat out the heat of the desert, any day.
At night, Lucy glowed.
She twinkled like a star in her own right, seemed to light up the desert around her like his own personal nightlight; and he knew it was the moonlight playing tricks, sliding across her pale skin in a quiet caress that left him breathless to witness, but it was beautiful either way. In the night, Lucy softened, and she did not burn hot as a desert day, but warmed the desert night like the dying embers of a fire, flirting along the edge of light and dark, always dancing just out of his grasp come dusk, smoke through his fingers, back to her home to explain away another late return.
Owen had never understood, and had never approved, and probably never would have, and Hicks would never say he was glad the man was gone, because he had, indeed, been a good man; but with that said, when he woke that first morning to see Lucy safe and sound beside him, curled against his side, the day after he'd helped rescue her...as he tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, he had to admit that he'd never wanted anything more than just this, and he was, at least, happy for that.
[Title: All the Stars In Texas - Ludo [x] ]
OutOfConfessional:
[So, you guys should prompt me for drabbles or something. Just an idea. AU prompts, sentences, colors, anything. I feel like writing. Gimme.]