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Log Title: All Yours
Log setting: Walker’s living room. It is just after midnight, early December.
Log Cast:
Jason
Trace
Glass
Walker
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Jason's on the couch, as usual. If you were just looking with normal eyes, he'd look pretty relaxed, all curled up, eyes closed, breathing regular. But his fae nature, as it tends to do when he's not paying attention, is a direct look into his mood - and it's a restless one. His tail flicks about him, wrapping and unwrapping about his loosely curled form, while his ears are in a distinctly flattened state. It's clear that he's awake and alert, though, because at the slightest of sounds his ears pick up and swivel right to the door. But otherwise he doesn't let on that he's concious.
The door does indeed open, and Trace strides in and closes it. He makes no real attempt to be stealthy until after he sees you curled on the couch. He probably just doesn't read ears and tails real well yet. The tail seems to usually have a mind of its own anyway, so who's to say it can't move while you sleep? Who's to say ears can't be lifted? So Trace stays quiet in the doorframe for a moment, watching you, and then he breaks into a grin and starts a slow tip-toe closer. Closer, closer, not realizing that you're surely aware of his every nearing step. Creepy, creep, a wildman stalks his not-so-oblivious prey.
One green eye cracks open, peering at the floor. It's follow by the other, and then their shared gaze slides up and fixes on you just as you get within reach. "Hey," he murmurs softly, with a faint smile. But the tail does nothing that could be considered calming down, and, once they eyes have secured you, his ears go back to flattening down. In those green depths, the thoughts race - but, again, without access to his furry mood-measures, he'd seem calm as a lake on a still day. He sniffs a little towards you, though, nose wriggling a moment. As if scenting something odd.
Damn, so much for being sneaky. But you know what? When the prey catches you, the only thing to do is snap fast! So Trace throws himself at the couch in a reckless pounce-shaped lunge. Surely within sniffing range now! He bounces onto the cushion next to you rather than squarsh you, but then another smaller lunge to get arms around you. Quicker than it sounds, too, with all the typing. Bounce-tackle. He nuzzles at red locks and says, "Hi, Jason!" *Someone's* in a good mood.
Jason winces slightly as he fails to tug his tail out of the way in time and it's clipped by a flying body, but when you throw your arms about him, he can't help but smile softly and press into you. And.. then snuffle at your neck. There's something that he can't put his finger on, like a scent.. The thoughts in those eyes start racing a whole new direction, and the tail resumes its (now restrained) thrashings. While he tries to figure it out, he brushes his fingers up through your braids and asks with a crooked smirk, "What's got you in such a mood?" And why the hell haven't I found it yet?
"I dunno," Trace beams, "I'm just happy to see you." It's partly the truth. No chemicals tonight. This *always* puts him in a good mood by default, if Bat's dismay doesn't put a damper on things or Bonnie's not being a creepy bitch. He preens at the braid pettings, enjoying them for a whole thirty seconds or so before he darts forward to kiss your cheek. "So! Why you sniffin' at me? I need a bath're somethin'?" He seems to be kidding, considering his grin and lack of offense. After all, he just HAD a bath like a week and a half ago! Geez, how much washing do you expect of him? Surely he's still shiny clean.
Jason looks at you for a long moment after you kiss him, blinking slowly. And then he sniffsniffs lightly again. Glamour calls to Glamour, and, even at his worst points, Jason is a /big/ ball of Glamour. Brows knit over bright eyes, ears laying back at the faint tingling he's getting from you. He twists a little so that his tail can hang off the edge of the couch (or, rather, lash off the edge). "This one's a new smell," he says slowly, still trying to figure it out, but seeming a lot closer now. He quirks a crooked grin and asks, oh so innocently, "So where ya been?" It's clear by his ears, though, that it's by no means innocent. Perhaps the agitation from when you walked in is clearer through hindsight now.
"Ahh.." Dammit, is he caught already? Trace draws back a little and looks at you, wetting his lips before smiling shyly. "I was gonna visit a friend in the projects, but I got sidetracked. It was no big thing tho." Caught. He's sure of it. And he'd even been doing a good job, in his opinion, of not giggling over how he'd almost squashed the tail, or acting tickled when it thrashed. "How 'bout you? Been hangin' out here?"
Jason just looks at you a loooong time, tail silently flicking against the coffee table, eats twitching atop his head. Kinda staring actually. And then it suddenly strikes him. The tingle bursts and there's a clear call between Glamours. With a sudden snarl, Jason pulls away from you and rolls to his feet, yanking the inky cloak off the back of the couch and throwing it around his shoulders. "Where in the projects?" he demands. Cause I'm gonna go there and someone's gonna accidentally fall off the roof for trespassing. The tail thrashes in its sudden confines, then slides out from the long slit in the black cloth (wool? shadows?). "Which buildin? What number?" Don't worry, Trace, it's not your fault. You just have bad luck is all.
"Nonono!" Trace protests, leaping up after you. And again, for good measure, "No!" He positions himself before you and tries to put his hands on your shoulders to steady you, stop you, so you'll pause and listen a moment. "Please. It weren't like that. It weren't like Bonnie or nothin' at all like that." He sighs and studies you a moment before admitting, "I was scared you'd be mad. But.. you don't gotta be, Jason. Honest." Okay. How to explain. Better do it good, or Jason's gonna fly off. "Okay. So I met a Different person in the projects. But it was fine, I mean, it was just, he knew my ma! I mean, he knew of her. And he was pissed. But I didn't really understand what he was sayin, an' he wanted to 'splain some stuff to me. He-he wanted to talk about why my dad died, an' how she eats up dreams!" His eyes are a little wide at that. Can you imagine? HIS ma, spoken of miles and miles away? "But how could he 'splain anything if I didn't remember it all right? So he helped me 'member." He sighs softly, even flinches a little as though expecting the worst at that, but quickly presses on. "That was all. Just to talk. But I started talkin' bout you, an' he realized more'a who I was, an' he clammed up real quick. Said he'd come ask you if us two could talk more, but storytime was over f'now coz I was all yours." He tips his head to the side a little and gives a meek grin before asking, "So am I? All yours?"
So, hey, I met this guy and he started spewing off shit up in the projects that he really shouldn't have been saying, but it's alright, honest. Nope, not doing the trick. Jason jerks back from your hands, eyes flashing with his green fire amongst a halo of suddenly wild red hair. "Yeah, I kin see he came /right/ over, didn' he? Where is he, Trace?" he demands. But it's obvious that whether you give an answer or not, Jason's going out that door, and he'll do some hunting if he has to. But that very last part give him just a moment of pause. "Y'don' unnerstan, Trace," he says lowly. "They'll take yer dreams like yer mom did. They'll take 'em worse, even." They'll take them like I almost did that one night, leaving nothing behind but broken faiths and tears. And then he suddenly snarls again. "Y'have tea with 'em an' eat candy 'n yer so happy I don' have the heart ta tell ya they jus' fattenin' you up. Even though I wish someone tol' /me/."
Trace looks at you for a moment, eyes flashing with the same hurt he showed Batiste over all the Ligeia fights. Nobody trusts his judgement. *Nobody*. "S'a beautiful world," he finally says, very quietly. "But you make everyone sound evil sometmies. Everybody gotta fuckin' dark motive, z'at it?" He looks down. "I... had friends, before I met you. I know every Different person's not like that. Pudge never woulda hurt me. But if I met him on the street t'day, I'm sure he'd be a soul-suckin' bastard in yer eyes too." He parts his hands. "Y'wanna know why this guy didn't come over? Coz he's at the Crossroads right now with a girl. An' I was poseta come see if you wanted to join 'em with me. So in a way, he *was* kinda 'spectin' t'see you soon. But I hadda work up the courage t'tell you first, an' I figured soon as I did that, you'd fly off, so I was nervous about it." And clearly rightly so.
Glass enters from the front stoop.
The door opens a crack and a young man, dark of eye and two-toned of hair, sticks his head in to look around. "Hey, animal lovers," he greets, fairly loudly, for Doug.
Jason may be an animal, but he certainly has been anything but a lover for the past... god, for a long, long time. But he's clearly paying attentions to any comings and goings, cos his back's kinda to the door and his attention's on Trace fully. And he's /pissed/. Probably just as much now because Trace is making sense as he is that, no matter what, this mysterious 'he' is STILL in for an ass-kicking. "What the /fu-... Le's go, then- What..." All these thoughts come out at once and force them out of his mouth, and his frustration builds and builds until, suddenly, he screams, "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO???" A deep, shuddering breath in the ringing silence that follows. "Jus' leave you be? Not WORRY 'bout you? Yeah, s'a beautiful fuckin' world you live in with your needle dreams an' benevolant strangers 'n people who tell you they love you an'..." His brows furrow as he spews out the words. He used to live in that world too... but until now, he never knew how far away it was from him.
Walker comes downstairs.
Bleary and sleep-rumpled Walker shuffles slowly down the spiral of stairs, smudging at half-asleep eyes. "S'goin' on..?" he mumbles, most likely unheard or at least unintelligable. Not very succint at nearly one in the morning after a long day. Probably would be more verbose and clear if he'd slept the night before but hey. You only live once.
Trace stumbles back at Jason's outburst, blinkblinking, and is silent during the ringing silence, silent during the following rant. He partials his attention away only briefly, to give Glass a weak smile, but clearly there's a turmoil taking place in the living room that is demanding his attention. Then Walker's here too, and he casts a glance over his shoulder before sighing and centering on Jason. Must do this, before the boy storms out on him. He looks a little shaken, really. Finally he speaks, emphatic and unsteady, "I... CAN'T... live like Bat. Or you." He turns away a little so he's facing no one. Gargoyles. Hey guys. "I can't live afraid of everybody all the time, so that I never trust nobody, never relax. I *can't* live like that." He folds his arms. "How many times I gotten by only coz'a some..." He looks around somewhat embarrassedly and decides on the words, "some different sorta stranger who saw somethin' in me an' wanted to help? It's been a lotta times. So I jest, I give people a chance first, y'know? So go worry. Go stalk the projects fer all I care. But I can't live like that, coz it ain't GOOD for me."
A glimpse of pale-tipped black hair can be caught as someone ducks his head back out the door and shuts it softly behind. Having walked in on an argument doesn't mean you should stay, and Doug tries to be well-mannered.
Jason just looks at Trace. For a long moment. It's building again, another eruption of something that comes from that dark pit on the inside of him. Fireheart, ha. That's always been a lie in Jason's eyes. The fire you see is all an act, because the heart's hiding away somewhere in the darkness that... really... seemed to just appear without his notice. But now he sees it and it's just mocking him in the form of you, Trace. So many years ago, he looked up at the sky and thought 'life is beautiful,' but now... "Mebbe I don' trust no one 'cause I SEEN what trustin' do, an' not 'cause I'm 'fraid. I held people in my arms as they /died/, blood 'n vomit 'n all that shit comin' outta 'em 'n all 'cause..." His brows furrow again, chin quivering. "All 'cause..." Because why? "I think," he mumbles, 'think' being cut off by a sudden spasm of breath. "I think this city's killing me." Holes of dark green roam over Trace's face. "But... I came back, you see?" A faint, not-altogether-there smile. "'N I found you," he says, very faintly. "'N now they wanna take away the last pretty thing there is." A hand reaches out for Trace's arm, taking it and turning it so he can see the track marks. "'Course, mebbe I wasn' supposed to have you. Or mebbe I was supposed to watch you fade too..." The tears can be heard in the back of his voice, but he refuses to let them show. "They gave my last love 'n took that 'way, why not the pretty thing too?" He sounds so much older. So much sadder. He's not 15. You can be sure of that.
[Walker’s SO makes him head to bed so it’s assumed that Walker senses this is a private moment and scurries back upstairs.]
Walker heads up the steep, winding stairs.
Glass opens the front door and steps outside.
Trace cringes as you start to study his arm, and sniffs hugely, with an expression that's threatening to break. But it doesn't, and instead he watches your face for a long time and then, reluctantly, follows your gaze down to his arm. "L'give it up after Bat's party," he finally decides. "I promise. Nuff'a this after the mural bullshit, okay? Coz it's jest, it's all fucked up an' outta control... So. So I'll do it. I promise." His tiny, scared voice is actually making an attempt to be reassuring. He looks up. "And I'll not see Different people if you know 'em and you know they're bad." The emotion in his voice almost makes him sound thirteen again, with vocal chords locked in puberty's humiliating grip. "I jest, I wanted to know... about my dad, an-and about... everything. Why she was like that, and what I was doing wrong, and..." Another big sniffle. "I.... I'm not gonna... fade, or get taken. I'm all yours."
You asked it, but he couldn't answer it. Not the way that he wanted to. Because no matter how far he's gone, he truly loves you, and could never say 'you belong to me.' But /you/ say it. /You/ give yourself to him. You can feel the shudder go through his entire body, you can see the change left in its wake. "Then... After Bat's party..." There's a spark of light, deep in the darkness that his eyes hold as they raise to yours again. Hope. Hope that maybe he can find in you the wonder that he left behind somewhere. "After Bat's party, I'm all yours," he whispers, his hand slipping up from your arm to grasp the pentagram about your neck in slender fingers. Luminescent eyes quiver with moisture, unable to pull away from yours now, even if he wanted to. "Jus'... jus' promise to hold on when I slip? Please?" Very softly. An admission of sorts. "Don' change for me... Yer my pretty thing..."
"I promise.." Trace whispers, keeping his gaze bravely lifted to yours. He's your pretty thing? That this vibrant, green-eyed, red-maned wonder would call him thus... He pulls in a shaky breath and steps forward to cling to you tightly. Bat's party. That's terrifyingly SOON. So he clings tighter. "All yours, all mine," he breathes into your shoulder, arms tight about you. After a moment he draws his chin up and brushes his lips to your cheek, then lips to your lips. Not even making sense anymore, but that's alright. Warmth trickles down his cheek, pooling at the chin, but he keeps his lips very close to yours and shapes the words again, "I promise."
You come to Jason and clin g and he just clings back just as tight. So soon... You're not the only one scared shitless about that. But there's a sense of exhileration too, kinda. He just nods at your breathy words, brushing his cheek against your braids. And then he swallows hard and tilts his head down even as you turn yours up, tears slipping down to turn the gentle kiss salty. Breaths come deep and heavy as you pull that fraction of an inch away, body shivering in your arms, a whole slew of intense emotions running through him right now. But then he whispers back, lips brushing yours once again, "So do I." It might not carry the full weight of the Dreaming behind it, but it's an oath that this fox won't ever break willingly.
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