sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 07:48:01 UTC
Ruby stops, her head tilted slightly to the side as if she's listening to something very far away. With her head in this position, she can almost see him, and he looms like a shadow in her peripheral vision, just another dark figure on a dark night. This one is only slightly more annoying than the majority of the ones she's been forced to deal with, and he's one of the few she's walked away from without having disposed of first.
She is hurting, more than she has in a long, long time, but it doesn't stop her. She would pull the aching bones out of her body and sharpen them to stab if it was necessary. It will take longer than a day for her own abilities to heal the body faster, and Ruby briefly wonders how long it's going to be before the City decides to kill the meat altogether. And she doesn't explain away the conclusions that he makes. It's none of his business what she can and cannot do now, no matter how insubstantial a fact, even if it could be written away with a simple 'I got the VIP healing kit.' Her doors have all been slammed.
When she turns halfway around, she's surprised at just how close he is standing to her. Ruby expected and knew that he was close, her senses prickling better than ever, but even the touch of his coat against her leg had been surprising and interesting enough to be misleading. Her face remains impassive, however: eyes calm, focused, mouth a pale, red slash that only curls up at one side now. "Are you going to attack me again?" she asks, honest but remarkably unafraid and bored. It's as if she's asking him if he plans on passing the salt.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 08:10:57 UTC
Angel recalls their previous way of departing, how she slipped off into the shadows. Drawing that last minute up in his memory is necessary as he stands there, considering her question, and looking down at her. The answer is clearly "no," but he finds it curious that she would even ask that. Is that what she wants? Would that be easy? Or is a throwaway one? Analyzing it doesn't benefit him as much as he would like, so he doesn't. "I didn't attack first," he tells her, simply. Matter of fact works. "So why would I attack again?" I already won. Unspoken, but it emanates in the air enough as if it is.
He leans toward her then, drawing their faces close enough together that there is no personal space, but not close enough. This would be more effective if he chose to do it the same way as she had, mouth to ear, but he likes it this way. It's more direct, as if she can't avoid it. "Have a good night, Ruby. Rest up." His hand raises and presses against her shoulder in a comforting pat twice, before he pulls back, steps away, and turns. This isn't a retreat to make small talk before they part. This is a full retreat, slip into the shadows, with the sound of his coat being the last sound before he's gone.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 08:29:13 UTC
She doesn't look away when he's up in her face, though her expression changes from what it had been before to something akin to a teenager being lectured by an overbearing parent. When he's gone, Ruby lingers in the shadows for a minute after he's gone. She hadn't been given the answer that she wanted, but then that's becoming a constant with him, too, isn't it? There is a lingering buzz where his hand had settled on her shoulder, and she feels rather than knows her face is pinched both in mental discomfort at him touching her at all and confusion at the prospect.
Ruby feels herself shifting and altering by degrees, tiny little clicks of her person that she doesn't like but can't stop, and the only response the body she's wearing has is to meld itself more firmly to her. Her back hurts, her face stings, and she desperately wants to kill something just to see it suffer for the first time in a long time. But not as much as she wants to walk across the street and pour a pound of ketchup onto an appetizer plate and eat french fries.
It's the last thought that she has before she turns to leave, and then as suddenly as she appeared there, she's gone.
She is hurting, more than she has in a long, long time, but it doesn't stop her. She would pull the aching bones out of her body and sharpen them to stab if it was necessary. It will take longer than a day for her own abilities to heal the body faster, and Ruby briefly wonders how long it's going to be before the City decides to kill the meat altogether. And she doesn't explain away the conclusions that he makes. It's none of his business what she can and cannot do now, no matter how insubstantial a fact, even if it could be written away with a simple 'I got the VIP healing kit.' Her doors have all been slammed.
When she turns halfway around, she's surprised at just how close he is standing to her. Ruby expected and knew that he was close, her senses prickling better than ever, but even the touch of his coat against her leg had been surprising and interesting enough to be misleading. Her face remains impassive, however: eyes calm, focused, mouth a pale, red slash that only curls up at one side now. "Are you going to attack me again?" she asks, honest but remarkably unafraid and bored. It's as if she's asking him if he plans on passing the salt.
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He leans toward her then, drawing their faces close enough together that there is no personal space, but not close enough. This would be more effective if he chose to do it the same way as she had, mouth to ear, but he likes it this way. It's more direct, as if she can't avoid it. "Have a good night, Ruby. Rest up." His hand raises and presses against her shoulder in a comforting pat twice, before he pulls back, steps away, and turns. This isn't a retreat to make small talk before they part. This is a full retreat, slip into the shadows, with the sound of his coat being the last sound before he's gone.
Reply
Ruby feels herself shifting and altering by degrees, tiny little clicks of her person that she doesn't like but can't stop, and the only response the body she's wearing has is to meld itself more firmly to her. Her back hurts, her face stings, and she desperately wants to kill something just to see it suffer for the first time in a long time. But not as much as she wants to walk across the street and pour a pound of ketchup onto an appetizer plate and eat french fries.
It's the last thought that she has before she turns to leave, and then as suddenly as she appeared there, she's gone.
Reply
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