Rahne had taken to being in her regular wolf form more as of late which is why she had been scarce. Few saw her or she simply didn't allow herself to be seen. Her wolf eyes translated the heat signatures of those around her and her senses did the rest. The coppery scent of blood caught her nose briefly and she made her way to where it had originated from.
Rahne had foregone the formality of dogtags while on patrol as they tended to make a lot of noise, but she hoped she wouldn't frighten anyone off and slowly made her way over to Ophelia, her wolf eyes being so much more expressive than a normal wolf's as they seemed to be confused as to what was the matter. She would wait until she was noticed so as not to startle or frighten her.
Ophelia didn't see Rahne. She felt Rahne. Not the same as usual. Not the same as with the others. It was a subtle shift, a difference in the funnelling of the emotions.
Everything was far more basic. It was condensed, not human but not entirely animal. Ophelia searched the trees for the trace, but found the origin on the ground. She jumped from the branch, landing in a small bundle on the ground, in the snow, and staring at the wolf.
"Not what you seem, it's going around. She can tell it's different from here on the ground. Mix and mash and churn and twirl. You'll scare off the evil little girl."
Rahne padded over slowly to Ophelia, her black wet nose snuffling as it searched for the source of the blood. Upon nuzzling Ophelia a bit finding it, she licked at the wounds gently, the wolf doing the only thing it knew to do at the moment, but she could not lick or help to heal any mental wounds.
Ophelia almost drew away, but stopped, sighing slightly as she struggled to identify who the wolf was. She didn't keep track of mutations any more, just people, just names, just feelings. The wolf felt familiar. And female.
"You're hard to place, why is that so? Ophelia's struggling now, it's hard to know."
The girl sighed again, leaning back against a tree as Rahne cleaned her hand. It didn't hurt, so she didn't mind. She just kept feeling her way through the wolf, waiting for the identity to reveal itself.
He'd been out around the compound again, patrolling what he thought of as 'his' territory, climbing onto the rooftops of the concrete bunkers here and there using his claws and taking note of any foreign scents he picked up in the snow. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary - well, as ordinary as you could get with a camp full of mutants - and he was just starting to head back towards the Mess Hall, back into the warmth, when he noticed Ophelia sitting a short distance away.
Shit. The only way back to where he wanted to go was right past her, and there wasn't any way around her. Maybe if he was lucky, she'd be in one of her more vacant moods and he'd be able to slink past un-noticed. He couldn't stand the way she rhymed and grinned when she spoke to him, it was irritating as hell, not to mention pretty un-nerving, although he was loathe to admit that. With a weary sigh, he began to trudge in her direction, hoping she'd not even notice he was there.
"I see you." She called it out the moment his emotional signature brushed her mind. She didn't see him, she just followed the trail back.
She was too open to things right then. Far too open to them. And every move around her just trickled through. "Slick and slide and crawl through the hole. It's one or the other, have to make the goal. Take it or leave it, she can't tell which. Make you burn, scream, burrow or twitch."
It wouldn't make sense, it didn't make sense. But she felt Victor, and she took what she could, what she wanted to. Storing it in the back of her mind and keeping it inside. She was going to burst, but it didn't stop her feeding more off Victor.
Shit. This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid - her prattling rhymes, the way she seemed to know exactly what was going on inside his head, even if did come out as a garbled, near-nonsensical mess. He hated the way that, no matter how twisted and soiled he tried to make his memories appear, she eagerly fed off of them as if they were candy. And right now, his thoughts and feelings were as ugly as ever. His frustration at still not having made up with Emma yet, at least not physically; his irritation at being repeatedly drawn to Jean, even though he knew such a liaison could only end painfully; his anger at Jean for threatening Rictor and other members of his 'pack', his guilt at having let Emma down so badly, his realisation that he needed to hunt and kill, even if he had been brought to heel over the past few months. The last person he wanted feeling all of those jumbledup emotions was Ophelia. Scowling, he tried to keep his temper and managed to utter the most polite phrase that he could manage, considering the
( ... )
Ophelia smiled sadly at him, "Can't go, got tied, it's a pain to be tried. Won't budge, she's tried, it's only to say she's cried." She wasn't tied, she wasn't crying.
But she wasn't going anywhere, or leaving him be. Anything he felt came with this darkness that Ophelia liked to hold on to. Some could say it was a part of her by then. She liked having it inside her, liked having that strange sort of evil he had.
"Make it less or make it more, you know you'll only be a bore. Can't get out and can't get in, you'll hear her over all the din. Make a bet or hold them close, beware in case her heart has froze. It's yours to break or take away, but then again, you can always play."
Martini was out at the edge of the treeline. He had made a game of hopping from rock to rock, trying to avoid the slushy snow. It was a good day for him. His Things were behaving, staying away today. He saw a vibrant red-headed figure perched in a tree, like some rare exotic bird plucked from the sky and set in the middle of nowhere.
The scene reminded him of his own desire not too long ago to seek refuge from the many people in the camp. If Ophelia was feeling the same way, he wouldn't bother her. But if she was just feeling low from absorbing a person's feelings, maybe his mood could cheer her up. Martini hopped from his rock, and went over to the tree, rapping his knuckles on it like he would a door.
He called up to her, feelings of concern drifting upwards with his voice. "Need a companion, one that will help make you light? Or would you prefer to be alone, feed off the ones that walk in the night?"
She wasn't hiding. She was stalking. Most of the signatures emerged from the compound. And while sitting in the mess got her just the same as sitting out here, she liked the outdoors better.
"Not the night, or the day, it's more a change to stay away. She's fishing out, a line she'll cast, it's like looking about in the past. She wants to know how they are, none of them feel above par. It's sad to say there's much to take, instead of a slice she wants the cake."
She peered down at Martini, taking that concern and filtering it away. She didn't give back, she was too busy stocking up. She usually balanced what she took with something she'd kept. But not this time. It was too important. "What say you, dear bending friend, is this what you've come to lend?"
Martini looked up at her, feeling his concern draining away. He began climbing, but slightly began to speed up time around himself as he did. It was like watching a hummingbird, just a blur that flitted from branch to branch. He stopped on the branch below Ophelia's. Her own looked barely strong enough to support her petite frame as it was. He sat down, taking heed of her boots. If one of those hit his head, all she would filter away from him was pain. "Take what you like, I've no need to store it away. Not like a squirrel, don't need it for a rainy day."
He knew his emotions tended to be a bit unstable, but maybe that's just what Ophelia was looking for. He thought for a moment and amended his previous statement, craning his head back to look at her. "Er, except anything about the way I feel about Rictor. That's stays, okay?"
Ophelia smiled, and nodded slightly. "Never lose it, keep it close. He's the one who matters most. Can't share in that, not any more. She wouldn't take it to make you sore."
She understood the strange love, the affection and adoration. The things that made you fight and get angry, but want to hold on and keep them close to you, to never let go and lose that one thing that made it seem worth while.
She took what she could find, leaning towards the darker of emotions. Destructive need, anger, petty jealousy, she liked those things. Leaving him with his happy feelings, contentment, affections for Rictor, his insanity was briefly touched at, the frustrations and hardships. She took them.
She liked them. "Nice and cosy, wrapped up tight. It's all about keeping the fight. Have to battle, so keep it dark. Her kind of wounds don't leave a mark."
Comments 23
Rahne had foregone the formality of dogtags while on patrol as they tended to make a lot of noise, but she hoped she wouldn't frighten anyone off and slowly made her way over to Ophelia, her wolf eyes being so much more expressive than a normal wolf's as they seemed to be confused as to what was the matter. She would wait until she was noticed so as not to startle or frighten her.
Reply
Everything was far more basic. It was condensed, not human but not entirely animal. Ophelia searched the trees for the trace, but found the origin on the ground. She jumped from the branch, landing in a small bundle on the ground, in the snow, and staring at the wolf.
"Not what you seem, it's going around. She can tell it's different from here on the ground. Mix and mash and churn and twirl. You'll scare off the evil little girl."
Reply
Reply
"You're hard to place, why is that so? Ophelia's struggling now, it's hard to know."
The girl sighed again, leaning back against a tree as Rahne cleaned her hand. It didn't hurt, so she didn't mind. She just kept feeling her way through the wolf, waiting for the identity to reveal itself.
Reply
Shit. The only way back to where he wanted to go was right past her, and there wasn't any way around her. Maybe if he was lucky, she'd be in one of her more vacant moods and he'd be able to slink past un-noticed. He couldn't stand the way she rhymed and grinned when she spoke to him, it was irritating as hell, not to mention pretty un-nerving, although he was loathe to admit that. With a weary sigh, he began to trudge in her direction, hoping she'd not even notice he was there.
Reply
She was too open to things right then. Far too open to them. And every move around her just trickled through. "Slick and slide and crawl through the hole. It's one or the other, have to make the goal. Take it or leave it, she can't tell which. Make you burn, scream, burrow or twitch."
It wouldn't make sense, it didn't make sense. But she felt Victor, and she took what she could, what she wanted to. Storing it in the back of her mind and keeping it inside. She was going to burst, but it didn't stop her feeding more off Victor.
Reply
Reply
But she wasn't going anywhere, or leaving him be. Anything he felt came with this darkness that Ophelia liked to hold on to. Some could say it was a part of her by then. She liked having it inside her, liked having that strange sort of evil he had.
"Make it less or make it more, you know you'll only be a bore. Can't get out and can't get in, you'll hear her over all the din. Make a bet or hold them close, beware in case her heart has froze. It's yours to break or take away, but then again, you can always play."
Reply
The scene reminded him of his own desire not too long ago to seek refuge from the many people in the camp. If Ophelia was feeling the same way, he wouldn't bother her. But if she was just feeling low from absorbing a person's feelings, maybe his mood could cheer her up. Martini hopped from his rock, and went over to the tree, rapping his knuckles on it like he would a door.
He called up to her, feelings of concern drifting upwards with his voice. "Need a companion, one that will help make you light? Or would you prefer to be alone, feed off the ones that walk in the night?"
Reply
"Not the night, or the day, it's more a change to stay away. She's fishing out, a line she'll cast, it's like looking about in the past. She wants to know how they are, none of them feel above par. It's sad to say there's much to take, instead of a slice she wants the cake."
She peered down at Martini, taking that concern and filtering it away. She didn't give back, she was too busy stocking up. She usually balanced what she took with something she'd kept. But not this time. It was too important. "What say you, dear bending friend, is this what you've come to lend?"
Reply
He knew his emotions tended to be a bit unstable, but maybe that's just what Ophelia was looking for. He thought for a moment and amended his previous statement, craning his head back to look at her. "Er, except anything about the way I feel about Rictor. That's stays, okay?"
Reply
She understood the strange love, the affection and adoration. The things that made you fight and get angry, but want to hold on and keep them close to you, to never let go and lose that one thing that made it seem worth while.
She took what she could find, leaning towards the darker of emotions. Destructive need, anger, petty jealousy, she liked those things. Leaving him with his happy feelings, contentment, affections for Rictor, his insanity was briefly touched at, the frustrations and hardships. She took them.
She liked them. "Nice and cosy, wrapped up tight. It's all about keeping the fight. Have to battle, so keep it dark. Her kind of wounds don't leave a mark."
Reply
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