ohlook.
hey look, i'm actually updating.
lish hasn't had much to write about lately so this is why she hasn't updated.
i want to write fluff, inspiration anyone?
kisses and tissues,
'lisha.
lish hasn't had much to write about lately so this is why she hasn't updated.
i want to write fluff, inspiration anyone?
kisses and tissues,
'lisha.
"It's really not fair that you two can do that and I can't."
"Learn to."
He made a face and quieted before strolling around again. Tonks gave a small smile before spotting a small stand. Leading the small group, Tonks pulled out her wallet, treating them all to a drink. Gene let Amber scamper to one of the cages up close, sitting on the bench with Tonks, knawing at the straw absent-mindedly.
"You know...the last time I came here was....the day my father died..."
Tonks softly spoke, staring at Amber.
"Uh...why?"
"Well, he was sick...and they wanted to get me away from him while he died...my mother told me it was so that I wouldn't get too traumatized. I came home and saw empty sheets and people crying and...it wasn't pretty."
She gave a small shrug before sipping at her drink again. Gene just stared at her, blinking, not sure what to say.
"Then I started to look for him, but he wasn't there. Then my mother comes to me and she tells me he died while I was out and that he wasn't in pain anymore and that he loved me and a whole load of bullshit. I ran away from her and the house and ran back here and sat in one of the corner and stayed there until the police found me. Apparently, my mother sent them to look for me..."
She shrugged again.
"So they dragged me home, I moped in my room, and my mother wailed all day."
She gave a soft snort before shaking her head.
"Worst thing was, I really didn't care that he died that day, it's just that, my mother didn't think I could handle it...gods, what a bitch."
She sighed before staring at Gene, giving a wry grin. He didn't return it. Instead, he gently took her hand and gave it a small kiss, movign close enough to wrap an arm around her and gently kiss the few tears that escaped her eyes.
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Tonks squints up at him, fascinated by Gene's choice of colours, and then watches as he steps down the ladder, dips the brush back into the paint can.
She looks back to her own work, how their separate painting has linked thus far, and when she turns back, Gene's worked his shirt off.
"What're you doing?"
"...Getting cooled off, what does it look like?"
"Put your shirt back on, meester."
Defiantly, Gene raises both eyebrows.
"Or else...?"
"Oh, I'll what else you, Eugene," she states, dunking her paintbrush in the black paint and giving chase. A minute passes before she pins him down, slashes her name across his chest and deep black. In that minute, they manage to spill quite a bit of paint, kick up the plastic runner, and giggle themselves crazy.
The room looks fine when they set everything out in the hall, however.
It looks perfectly...Gonks.
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Yes, wailing and shrieking and crying echoed in her room.
Positivly loud obnoxious crying.
Gene winced and pulled the pillow over his head.
Nothing
He gave a sigh when suddenly it all stopped.
Nothing
Silence.
Standing, he quietly shuffled to the kitchen area. From there he could see her outline, a robe hastily thrown over her clothes, Catarina cradled in her arms as she held a bottle to the baby's lips. She was slowly rocking the baby, feeding her, looking more asleep than anything else, but nevertheless, feeding her.
Once the bottle was done with, the baby burped, she began to snuffle around again, a feeling of imminent doom falling upon Gene, expecting wails once more.
Shielding his ears he prepared himself for the wails and screams again, when suddenly, he realized, there was nothing. Cautiously lifting his hands, he was greeted only with a soft humming. Peeking in, he could see Tonks holding the baby on her shoulder, gently patting the back and softly singing.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word
Mama's mama's going to buy you a humming bird...
and if that humming bird don't sing mama's going to buy you a diamond ring
and if that diamond ring don't shine, mama's going to buy you a..."
Her voice continued on, soft and warming and everything a mother's voice should be. He could tell she was tired, but even so, Tonks was softly singing, humming, comforting the baby and gently, when the baby had fallen asleep, Tonks tenderly placed Catarina into her crib, kissing the soft downy head and laying back on the couch, dozing off only slightly.
Gene carefuly crept up to the crib adn stared down at the sleeping baby before he gently smoothed the blanket slowly began to sing.
"and if that diamond ring don't shine, mama's going to buy you a..."
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Gene shakes his head, groans softly into the pillow, and gradually relaxes as Tonks' hands work at his back, warm and careful, prodding carefully to rub and knead his flesh. It feels nice and, although she frowned down at the tattoos there, Tonks doesn't seem to mind too badly.
"Ah, higher, a little to your left. I...ohshit, yeah there."
He's grinning into the pillow, close to laughing, and then Tonks slaps the back of his head, making him frown.
"This is not sexual at all, Eugene," Tonks says, grunting as she presses down between his shoulderblades with her thumbs, only fueling his giggles moreso.
She rolls her eyes, blushes, then bites her lower lip, rocking against his lower back while loosening the knots in his back.
"Oh Gene, oh Gene, gods yes."
Gene's stiffened, mouth opening, and a small gasp tumbles out before he sits up, awkwardly, glares at her before rushing to the bathroom.
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She stared at the paper slowly piling up, fiddling with a piece of hair, jumping and throwing out a punch when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turns and glared.
"What did I say about sneaking up from behind?!"
Gene only gives her a crooked grin before standing next to her, staring at the copy machine before them.
"What're you doing here?"
"I'm being nice."
He perked a brow before shrugging, taking up one of the flyers and reading it to himself.
"You ARE nice."
"I know."
She gave a sour look and collected the flyers, adjusting the hat on her head before hefting them slightly, the load lessened when Gene takes half. She smiled up at him before sighing.
"And this is what I spend my weekend doing."
"What, putting up flyers?"
"No...meeting my student at a photo copier."
He only smirked before giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"But you know I make your life so much more interesting."
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It hadn't been a good idea to let him drink. He'd hit on just about everything in the place with two legs, including a man by the name of Gavin who kept grinning and nodding, sizing her up over Gene's shoulder.
Tonks pulled herself away from the bar, frowning, scanned over the dance floor for Gene's tall, lanky figure. No Gene there of course.
Finally, she spotted, grinning almost vacantly, murmuring something against some older brunette's neck. Tonks bit her lower lip, released it, was unsure why she felt a kindling of distrust and annoyance in the pit of her gut.
She stomped over to the couple finally, stagged Gene away by the ear, gaining herself a confused glare from the brunette. She continued pulling until they'd gotten outside, then gripped his hand as though he were a preschooler.
"We're going home now," she said, lifting her chin, nodding resolutely.
Gene, blinking, nodded, giving her half of a salute before smiling, shifting to rest his head on her shoulder, an awkward angle but one that Tonks hesitantly accepted.
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Both were comfortable, not all too scared, Gene a tad disappointed. After all, a scared Tonks meant a free cuddle for him. The movie had not gone too far, but it was suddenly Tonks stiffened the bowl of popcorn upset and scattered on the floor. Gene had been slightly dozing when he looked up, frowning.
"Wha-?"
He stared at the screen before giving a soft "oh". He could see the terror building up on Tonks' face as she saw the girl being pushed into the closet, forced to pray.
"Turn it off."
He obeyed, letting darkness blanket them both. He could feel her hands gripping his and he gently took her in his arms, ignoring the flinch she gave, and pressed his lips to her forehead before gently hugging her.
"I'm right here."
"I know."
And it was then, she gently relaxed again, her body leaning against his, and Gene got his wish as the movie was never turned on again, only to have a Tonks snuggled at his side for the rest of the night.
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"Gene?"
He ignores the groggy sound of Tonks' voice, half asleep and confused, and instead scrambles for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
He makes it to the toilet, dry heaves once, twice, and then forces the seat down, rests his head on the cool porcelain to calm himself though it does little to help.
Amber's face comes to mind again, the pop of that gun, her scream, all that blood and then...
He fumbles for the seat covering, forces it up, and really does vomit this time, crying and miserable.
Tonks raps at the door, quick and concerned, and Gene shakes his head minutely, slips over the bathroom tile to snatch down a few squares of toilet paper. He wipes his mouth with it, tosses it in, flushes, and then forces himself to stand, legs watery and nervous.
He washes his mouth out in the sink, continues to ignore Tonks' pounding, and finally turns the water off.
Tonks is there when he opens the door, stares at him as he steps back into the bathroom.
He says nothing however, only climbs into the bed, curls up against her, and doesn't sleep.
Tonks' hand runs through his hair, down his back, and that's comfort enough.
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Then she saw one a flash of metal and suddenly there was blood everywhere. Turning, she saw one of the girls holding her nose, crying, bleeding. Her nose ring had been ripped out and so that night, she took her's out and never wore it again.
Now, she stared at Gene's, frowning, unconsciously biting at her lip. She gently tugged at the small ring, catching his attention.
"What?"
"That could rip out."
"So?"
"Don't you worry?"
"Not really, why, do you?"
"Yes."
"But I'm careful."
"Like hell you are."
She grinned before sobering again. She stared at his nose ring again before sighing, giving up, tugging at her own earrings. After all, if her earrings were safe, maybe his nose ring was safe too.
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Tonks looked, tilted her head, "Age twelve, stumbled and ran into one of my mothers glass tables, she shrieked like a banshee and told me not to ruin any of the good china."
Gene nodded, "My turn."
"All right, what's that one from?"
"Neighbors cat," Gene said, admiring the scar along his elbow, "his name was Sarsparilla and he scratched the hell out of me. I was six."
A nod.
"What's that one from?"
Gene had nudged up her shirt, pointed out a jagged diagonal that curved toward her bed.
"Death Eater," she murmured.
Quiet fell, then Gene sighed, laying back, "the scar game is getting old, let's do something else."
Tonks watched him a moment, blinking, but decided not to ask, "Monopoly maybe."
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Tonks blinked, looking up from the book she was reading, staring at Gene as he flipped through a large book from her father's study that she had lugged to Hogwarts. The book on mythology.
"A sirien's a mythical creature who has the head of a woman and body of a bird. They're supposed to be enchanting singers and draw sailors to them only to tear them apart and eat them."
She looked down at her book again when Gene poked at her again and she looked up, blinking when he sat next to her on the floor.
"Sing."
"What?"
"Sing..."
"I'm not a sirien."
"So? I wanna hear you sing."
With a sigh, she set her book down and gave Gene a puzzled look before softly beginning to sing. Her voice, strong and sweet, gently calming him in the oddest way. She was a good singer, no doubt, but something in her voice made Gene tilt his head and stare and smile and when her voice tapered off he grinned, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.
"My sirien."
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"Ow," he mouthed, receiving only a glare from Tonks' end.
She pursed her lips, looked again to the stage, and Gene sat up, nursing his sore side with a careful hand.
That had hurt. A lot.
He whimpered, softly, but managed to stay awake for the rest of the ballet, which looked like just a bunch of people in tights running and leaping across a stage. Ridiculous.
"It's culture," Tonks corrected when they left the theatre, started down the busy London street to head back to the apartment.
Gene, skeptical, rolled his eyes, "Strip joints culture too but you won't take us there."
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Absolutely abhored it.
She sat on the floor a bowl of ice at her side, slowly eating them. Her short and tank top seeming to cling ot her in the heat.
She gave a small sigh before eating another ice cube, letting her head tilt to the side, neck cracking. She felt the smallest drift of breeze in the and opened her eyes to see Gene hovering abover her, a fan in hand.
"Have I told you how much I love you?"
He grinned before continuing to fan them both, silent and quiet. It seemed apparent to Gene that heat was something Tonks didn't fare well in, the small heat blush making her cheeks a flushed rosy color as if she was perpetually blushing, hair lying flat against her face, eyes closed. He on the other hand didn't seem to mind all too much. He looped on arm around her waist, hearing her give a small mumble of protest, half dozing.
He let her head lean against his lap, letting her body rest against the cool floor. She gave a soft sigh and her eyes remained closed, sleep overtaking her in the heated afternoon. Gene just sat there, fan in hand and the other hand gently smoothing back her hair, smiling at the sleeping Tonks.
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Her head cants to one side as he moves to the other side, does the same, and she regards him silently when the faint powdering of eyeshadow is dabbed on to darken both lids.
He says nothing, doesn't seem to see her, and as he continues in his bathroom ritual (slipping another hoop into the pierced lip and brow) she wonders if he realizes how truly amazing his eyes are.
They're a brown so dark they look midnight black, and when the light hits them she can see the brown shading, how open they look despite Gene's curse and frown, tinged bitterly with the complaint that he hates how bright those fucking halogen light bulb thingies are.
Taking the time to look into Gene's eyes is a process worth accomplishing. Gene's eyes are not just windows to his soul. They're large passageways that pave the way towards emotion; feeling that Gene would rather not admit to.
"What're you looking at?"
The eye make-up has been put away, shut into a drawer, and Tonks straightens, shakes her head, a small secret smile on her lips.
"Nothing, Gene, nothing."
She takes time to notice the brief worry that flashes across those dual projecters, wary and confused, and then kisses him on the cheek, "C'mon, let's go out for dinner now."
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"I still don't get it."
"What?"
"Why here? Middle of nowhere...nothing to do...BORING."
Tonks rolled her eyes, shaking her head, long black tresses falling over her shoulder and face, gently smoothed back by Gene's hand instinctivly.
"It's quiet. And perfectly lovely. No more griping from other people about things that need to be done and whatnot."
"Yeah, but...it's so boring...."
She rolled her eyes.
"Just sit back and enjoy what's presented to you? Really, Gene, ever heard of enjoying nature?"
"...what?!"
"Forget it. Shut up and keep me warm and don't even think about it."
She threw him a warning glare before he shut his mouth, giving a small sigh, wrapping an arm around her waist.
There was a few minutes of silence. Her eyes fixed on the sky, silently watching the constellations, enjoying the silence of it all when she felt a sense of uneasiness falling upon them again and she turned to Gene, sighing.
"Fine, off to bed. You're much to fidgity."
She rolled her eyes at Gene before smiling. Gene just threw her a gratefull look and slowly they slid down onto the ground, a mat below them, Tonks' head buried into his shoulder, his arm twined around her waist, nose buried in her hair.
"...maybe this camping shit isn't so bad...."
She grinned before snuggling close and drifting off to sleep.
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She doesn't even look up, mearly blowing at a piece of her hair before sighing, shaking her head, dipping the quill into the ink to write out a long comment, most likely about something wrong.
She then drops the quill, flexing her long fingers, rubbing her eyes before hiding her face with her hands. Gene blinks a bit before he watches her fingers gently drum against her forehead, noting that her fingers seem longer than the backs of her hands.
To Gene, the most interesting part about Tonks, other than the fact that she's a metamorphagus, is her hands.
In his opinon, they're by far, the most beautiful hands he's seen. The long fingers are slim and elegant, each joint of her fingers just slightly protuding out, the bones visible yet at the same time not. Nails gently rounded and usually painted a soft pale color, just barely there. From the back, they look delicate and frail, the blue veins just barely visible, but he knows that it's all a deception.
True, those hands were at times, elegant and graceful as they appeared. Delicatly holding his hands as they danced around the room, her teaching him how to waltz, or holding a cigarette, poised between two fingers or when they go out to eat, the way she holds her wine glass or her silverware, practiced grace.
Yet at the same hands can form fists and punch hard enough to knock out teeth's and bruise. That the same hands could handle weapons or paintbrushes or quills. That her hands were able to gentle when she wanted them to be, to gently untangle his hair or skim over his face or to even give massages that made him feel relaxed and content.
In his opinon, its the palm side of her hands that really reveal who she is. He sees a scar, thin, as if it's from a knife or perhaps a curse that she deflected with her hand, but it's there from one end to another. She has a bump on her middle finger from writing too much and often there are ink stains, such as now, from grading papers. The skin's smooth and cared for, but at the same time, he can feel spots where she burned herself or a half healed cut and he knows, that as beautiful as her hands are, they don't really reveal who she is.
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