Comments | scorched_logs: // i'm a little girl boiled into a mature little piece of [clock] work [closed]

girl_unlocking in scorched_logs

// i'm a little girl boiled into a mature little piece of [clock] work [closed]

Sep 08, 2010 16:53

Who: Dawn Summers girl_unlocking, Spike samianscar [closed]
When:Just after this post, and this message
Where: Outlander Block.
Format: Paragraph/action?
What: Reunions.
Warnings: Tears. Angst. Disbelief. Cheekbones. And derp.

( you got to know/i'm always in the way/upside down to you/open to all/these tangled knots of living/finally caught me too/don't leave me alone )

-incomplete, spike, dawn summers

Comments 25

samianscar September 9 2010, 06:01:09 UTC

(...)

(What?)

// "I feel safe with you."
"Take that back!!"

"I made a promise to a lady."
"Oh? Well I'll send the lady your regrets."

"No. I'm not leaving you ... to get hurt. Not again." \\

"SPIKE!!!! Can you hear me? Is..."

WHAT!?

Spike spun to face the sound. Faint, through storeys, mist and walls. Could be any of the times over the last year he'd thought a random voice was one of theirs. But that had just been his mind. His hearing didn't lie. He tore through rooms until he found a window looking out.

The street below was empty.

...But god he could smell...

Whipping 'round, he sprinted back out, hunting a stairwell. Impulse was to take the direct route out the window, but that probably wouldn't be cool with the kid, if it was, and make him quadruply stupid if it wasn't. (It couldn't. God, don't let it be. -But could he stand it not to...?)

He hit the ground floor running, dead speed toward the front door. He skidded suddenly to a stop. Another whiff-DAMMIT!-he turned on his heels, launching instead deeper into the ( ... )

girl_unlocking September 10 2010, 00:12:02 UTC

Fingers playing at the edge of her sleeve, twisting into the knit and pressing against dark stains she no longer noticed -- face half hidden behind her hair as she'd cried out---

Spike!!

---and then, when no sound had come, she'd just given up, given in and given over to the sobbing. It was a veritable and literal floodgate and she could do fuck-all to stop it.

Didn't know if she heard footsteps, didn't know if the light had shifted along the hall, or if somehow she smelled cigarettes,

cigarettes?

She only knew that the voice ---even the illusion of it over the forge---

You heard what they said, Dawnie. What you ...read in that little Welcome to Anatole handbook for the recently Scorched? People disappear. Into the Mist. Hallucinations. Nightmares. Dreams.

...Tricks. I mean, in all fairness, Little Bit, you never really were ten, were you? It's not ...real.

(I'm not)Dawn starts to sink, she can feel it - her legs buckling beneath her, all water and weight(less) and heartsick - knees on the floor and unable to see past her own ( ... )

samianscar September 10 2010, 02:27:06 UTC

Too strongly-vampire brawn not meant for cuddling wee breakable humans-
-but perhaps exactly as strong as an anchor has to be-
-he grabbed her in both arms and held her tight.

He stayed quite still, keeping the calm for her for when the storm blew out; but as she sobbed into his (pulseless-breathless) chest, he bent his face into her shoulder, too.

girl_unlocking September 10 2010, 23:07:12 UTC

She didn't break - didn't even bend really, but eventually she quieted just a fraction, her fingers still clutching at the edges of his jacket, pressing against the (familiar?) worn leather.

"I-it's really you? It's not a ...trick? You're here? H-how?"

Tears sliding down her cheeks again as she pulls slightly back, but not letting go.

Not letting go.

Thread 25