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Awake.
Sept 8, 2006 18:27:49 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 8, 2006 18:27:49 GMT -5
Addison expected to be ignored. In fact, he was taken a bit off guard by the second note, for he hadn’t been anticipating anything at all. Even though he was ignored after that, he really didn’t mind. He’d won the battle to stay in the room. That was enough for him. But after a few minutes of observing Tatum’s reaction, he started to wish that he would’ve acted like the doormat he was and politely bow out. The reaction he’d gotten when he’d told her the news had been enough, but whatever Mannix had said to her had gotten her into even more of a fit. And what she told him to do with Mannix confirmed that she wasn’t in a fabulous mood.
It was an effort to string a sentence together after the insults flew. “I’ve dealt with worse,” he told her, still feeling a bit alien about openly insulting her brother. After that, she was off, fleeing down the corridors and out of sight. If an Olympian scout had been in the hospital to observe that speed, Tatum probably would’ve been drafted into track. As much as Mannix was his patient, Addison’s main concern was Tatum at the moment. Though it might’ve been a bit inhumane to leave Mannix in pain with his shoulder, whatever he’d said to his sister had earned him the right to wait a few more minutes until he got treated.
It took some detective work to track her down, but he managed. The hospital walls held no privacy, so completely leaving the place seemed like the most logical plan of action. And that was the right guess, because that was exactly where she turned up. But now that he was there with her, words failed him. He probably should’ve put more thought into this before just bolting on instinct like he did.
“Is there anything I can do?” Pause. “Besides dragging him back into the gutter?” Whatever he’d said to her, it’d been serious. While Addison was aware that it was none of his business, he wanted to find a way to help her instead of leaving her be. Unless that was her true wish. But when someone asked to be alone, sometimes that wasn’t what they really meant. He wasn’t sure if this was one of those cases quite yet.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 8, 2006 18:43:17 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 8, 2006 18:43:17 GMT -5
{okay I'm skipping Mannix since Addison followed . . . suffice it to say, he's not pleased}
Tatum had been standing next to the fountain located in front of the hospital watching the water run down over the cherubim and seraphim that played upon the marble precipice. There was something soothing in watching the water, listening to its happy bubbling. Reaching a small hand out, she dipped her fingers in the bottom pool, letting the cold sensation spread over her fingers. She tried to concentrate on the feeling, to use that meditation to push away the thoughts of what had just happened.
Inside, she imagined that Addison had finally gotten to examine her brother and was most likely glad to be free of the bit of family drama that he had witnessed. Sighing, she unclasped her lime green robes, revealing a light gray dress beneath. Setting the robes to rest upon the edge of the fountain, she heard footsteps behind her, and had the fleeting notion to duck out of sight, not wanting to carry on any forced friendly small talk with a colleague.
The voice surprised her both for how quickly she recognized it and for the fact that it was present at all. He had followed her, and quickly too it seemed, meaning he had most likely abandoned his post at her brother's bedside. What a scene she must have made for him to have reacted in such a way.
Instead of answering his question, she posed one of her own, "Do ye have any siblins, Addison?" She shrugged her shoulders slightly before adding, "You must think I'm a complete . . . bitch. Me brother bein in such shape an me . . .reactin that way. It is ni right."
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Awake.
Sept 9, 2006 23:57:18 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 9, 2006 23:57:18 GMT -5
It was a change of pace, him being asked a question, but he supposed it was fair play. He waited to answer, however, for she started to guiltily talk about how she’d reacted to her brother. Mannix wasn’t a polite person, from what Addison had been able to gather. The majority of society reacted rude to people like that, so why was she an exception? He reckoned he was being a little inhumane, seeing as they were brother and sister, but Addison believed there was a line between pleasant and rude when your sibling talks to you in a bad way…or whatever he’d done to Tatum. Maybe that’d been the right plan and that’d be the slap in the face that’d bring Mannix back to earth. Or maybe he’d keep being a little arsehole. It was hard to tell, seeing as he only met Mannix a little while ago.
“I do. A sister,” Addison replied after a few minutes, being able to picture her within his mind. It was a strange thing, a relationship with your brother or sister. Amandine was a woman Addison wouldn’t have kept a relationship with by any means if they hadn’t been related. However, they’d grown up together. And he was now a godfather to her kid. That tended to complicate things and rule out isolation altogether.
“I get frustrated…with her. Often,” he said quietly, staring at the fountain. Its passivity was an ironic comparison to the chaos that was going on inside the hospital walls. Glancing at her robes she’d laid down on the edge, he looked back at Tatum with softened eyes. She was truly unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Even if her brother was an arrogant little rodent of a human being, she was still so selfless. It was a lesson Addison was trying to learn with his sister. It wasn’t working too well.
“I don’t think you having a tiff with your brother is anything I haven’t seen before. I just want to make sure that whatever happened in there…That you’re alright.” If he hadn’t have checked up on her, his guilty conscience would’ve surely stabbed him in the back.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 10, 2006 8:12:25 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 10, 2006 8:12:25 GMT -5
Tatum's gentle gaze remained upon Addison as he looked upon the fountain, and she felt as if she could see his own conflicted emotions over his sister. She wondered what kind of woman she was, if she was truly difficult or if Addison was hard on her. Yet the Irish witch had the feeling that if she ever met the witch in question, she would side with Addison. It was hard for her to believe the man could do much of anything to diminish the way she saw him. Perhaps it was foolish of her. Perhaps not. But someting about him in the space of time that they had shared together told her that he could understand her.
And that was something she had never, ever had before. Understanding.
His softened eyes prompted a brave smile to spread across her lips. "I'll be fine." It was a lie, a well-practiced and much-rehearsed one, the kind that bought her the isolation and independence that she prided herself upon. It was like a reflex, and the knee jerk was all the greater because of the thoughts she had just entertained. Addison was dangerous because she felt like he could really see her. And even more so because part of her wanted him to so badly.
"Thank ye fer checkin though."
Her eyes drifted back to the fountain as if she was giving him leave to go. If this was the work of his conscience alone, he could rest assured in the fact that he had offered to help. He could go about his day without any added weight, and she could be left alone to the hard decisions she had to make. It was so simple it was almost a crime.
"He wants me te do somethin fer him."
But apparently simple was not the word for the day as her voice came softly once more, her eyes watching the water wash down over the figures. It was as if her speech was flowing just as easily from her, without even her own permission.
"If yer sister asked ye te do somethin, somethin that made ye hate yerself, would ye do it?"
She turned her gaze to him once more, all the pain she had just denied feeling suddenly quite visible on her countenance.
"If ye thought it would finally keep her from doin things that were ni good would ye do it?"
Feeling one small tear trickle out over her cheek, she brought her gaze to the ground to hide its appearance before adding, "If ye made yerself a promise ye would ni do a thing like what she wanted again, would ye do it?"
Raising her face again, she sniffed and wiped at her cheek though a few more tears were present. It was the first time she had let anyone see her cry since she had left behind the days of childhood and became a full grown woman.
"I dinna ken how I will live with meself if I dinna do it. An I dinna ken how I will if I do."
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Awake.
Sept 10, 2006 20:50:24 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 10, 2006 20:50:24 GMT -5
He leisurely bowed his head, not knowing whether or not that was a genuine answer or just something to send him on his way. Addison concluded that this was the sendoff. This was the go-ahead to venture back to Mannix. It probably was the best to give her some time to think. He took a step back, mutely cracking the knuckles of his left hand, a nervous habit. Why that nervousness was surfacing, he had no idea. Before he could muster up a goodbye, however, she revealed what had been said between them. A request. His eyes flickered momentarily in revelation. “Oh?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. What was this deed he wanted her to do? Empty his cat’s litter box? Reassign him to a different healer? Addison decided not. This had to be something hella big if she was this upset.
Her question actually left him speechless. On one hand, Amandine was a woman who was known not to return favors. The favors were done for her. But on the other hand, Addison had the tendency to look past her selfishness and fulfill most of her favors because…she was his sister. There was no other reason but that one. And yet, that very reason kept him agreeing to whatever she desired: loans, babysitting, etc. He was Amandine’s doormat. And she knew it.
“Most likely,” Addison finally replied, the words burning in his throat. He rarely had the balls to stand up to her, so in most likelihood he would do something stupid for her. His eyes locked on Tatum’s face, trying to read what she was trying to tell him to no avail.
The second question took some thinking, too. He didn’t really believe Amandine to be a woman capable of change, but maybe that was just his shallowness speaking. Maybe she was capable of turning some of her bad habits around. If that situation had ever come across the horizon…”I don’t see why not.”
Their gazes were broken by her bowing her head. He bit hard into his lip, not responding for a few moments, the bubbling fountain being the only thing that tainted the silence. He didn’t answer the last question. He was afraid of what his response would be.
“Can I ask… what he wanted?” Addison inquired; the tears on Tatum’s face making him feel abnormally hesitant.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 11, 2006 5:47:54 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 11, 2006 5:47:54 GMT -5
Each of Addison's answers was at once and arrow through her a balm to soothe the puncture it created. There had been some shred of hope within her that Addison would have said 'no way, jose,' showing her that it was indeed not heartless, not cruel to refuse Mannix in what he asked. But in his yes, there was also a comfort that considering the task at all did not make her public enemy number one, that it did not make her some sort of pariah, and would not make her one in his eyes. And for whatever reason, his eyes mattered to her.
When he asked the question, Tatum felt her brow knit, and the wheels that had been spinning in her mind ground to a hault. The prospect of revealing this thing was veritably laced on all sides with danger. There was the danger that he would do something, report her family and herself to some authority or other. There was the danger that he would try to stop her. And most importantly, there was the danger of letting him in. Once she told him this secret, her others might follow as if they were knotted together on a very long string that until this point rested in the depths of her.
She tilted her head, bringing her hand to wipe at her cheeks as the shock of the moment had ceased the flow of tears. Her ice blue orbs searched his as if she thought if she looked at him long enough she would know for sure that she could trust him. And as she looked, the memory of the first time they had officially met in that shitehole pub in London came to her. She thought of how vulnerable he had been, how he must have questioned whether she was a witch he could trust with a secret. And as he had not threatened her for her silence, tried to obliviate her memory or any other of the scenarios that might have occurred if he felt he were cornered and she was a threat, it was clear what decision he had made concerning her.
And so she made her own.
She stepped closer, brining her to the proximity two lovers might stand if they were poised to kiss, though such things were far from her mind. Her purpose was all the more intimate, really, to bare something that should not be spoken aloud. Once the closeness was achieved, she spoke in the almost inaudible tone that it allowed.
"My family's always been inte some shady things. I was involved when I was younger, but I left all that behind when I came here."
She drew in a deep breath, fighting back the image of all the things she had done for her various brothers, of the sins she had committed, of the pieces of herself that she had martyred in their respective names.
"He came te London because he found one last job. One that'll give him enough coin that he can finally retire, lead an honest life. He had planned fer me te . . ." for whatever reason it suddenly became harder for her to talk, and her voice grew more strained as she continued
". . . te seduce a man. Get him te take me back te his place so that when we were . . . in the thick o'things . . . me brother could break in, stupefy him and steal something from him that someone else wants."
She drew a deep breath, her eyes drifting away from Addison's to settle upon the ground.
"But ye can see he canna be o'much help from where he is. So . . ." and then it was as if her decision was made for her, no matter what the risk or cost to herself, she was going to do this thing. What was one more sin if it would finally cleanse her brother?
"I'll have te do it alone. When he takes me back te his place, I'll have te kill him."
Her eyes wandered up to Addison's once more and she managed a mirthless laugh, "Bet ye wish ye'd've stayed inside, aye?"
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Awake.
Sept 11, 2006 21:07:05 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 11, 2006 21:07:05 GMT -5
The alarming proximity that was closing in caused his heart to lodge in his throat, ceasing his breathing for a few moments. Or perhaps that was his imagination, for he didn’t find himself struggling to relearn breathing. Personal space had always been respected between him and another, but now that it wasn’t...Now that it wasn’t? He wasn’t doing a thing at all. It didn’t make sense. It nearly caused his brain to hemorrhage, thinking about how he’d normally take a few automatic steps back if he was advanced in such a way. But the cause of the action had only been to inform him, causing the heart to unlodge from his throat and wander back to its respective ribcage.
Shady things. Darlin’, you have no idea what kind of expert you’re mingling with here. Naturally, his interest was immediately taken and his ears were intent on the words being fed to them. A plot full of thievery, illegality and seduction was what he was told. The first two he was fluent with. Didn’t seem too much of a rendezvous unless you were the one doing the seducing. THEN things could get a little weird. But she revealed that it had to be her to do everything. That was a piece of the puzzle that seemed a bit crooked.
“No, I don’t,” Addison replied, studying her closely. If anything, he was relieved she’d told him. He didn’t want her to get hurt, since she’d presumably not done a job unaccompanied before. He was concerned about the concept of her going out alone. “I could help,” he said more quietly, sure that would come off as comical. But it was better him to be involved than to have her go down in the process.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 12, 2006 5:14:20 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 12, 2006 5:14:20 GMT -5
Tatum had expected a good many reactions from Addison, most of them ranging from a gasp of shock to an all out fervor of righteous indignation where she would be called everything from a charlatan to a criminal and then told she would be exposed for the vile woman that she was. When she finished her tale, she found she was holding her breath, her shoulders tensed, her toes curles within her shoes, everything clenched and awaiting the worst.
But it never came.
Had she been a more frail woman, one given to faint like the ladies of yore, she might have swooned from the shock of his next words. In the myriad scenarios she had conjured within her mind, not one of them included his offer of help, even teasingly. Because that's what it was, right? A joke? He couldn't possibly be sincere in wishing to get involved in this situation.
"Dinna say that," she nearly scolded, taking a step back from Addison. "Tis ni a thing te joke about."
Looking up at him, her face softened some, studying his countenance before correcting herself.
"Yer ni jokin."
The realization stunned her momentarily, and without her permission the tears were in her eyes once more.
"I --"
Another moment of stunned silence.
"Oh Addison, I canna let ye do that."
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Awake.
Sept 14, 2006 20:23:34 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 14, 2006 20:23:34 GMT -5
Perhaps he would have thought the whole thing to be a joke if he hadn’t seen the tears she’d shed. The possibility that she was a good actress and did that just to throw him off wasn’t very plausible, so he didn’t take it as something to joke about. Though he wasn’t particularly skilled at reading people, Addison knew enough to conclude that all she’d expressed had been raw. Real. He didn’t reply to her at her first statement, letting her conclude on her own from his expression that he wasn’t joking. He was as serious as genocide. “I don’t see why I should be.”
It was ironic how some people cared about others more than themselves. Someone with a heart full of gold would throw themselves in front of a train in order to save someone else without a second thought. Whatever it’d take, they’d do it despite the risks. That was Tatum, putting everyone in front of her own health. When someone offered to carry the burden, however, the rejections came at a swift pace. “I have enough regrets as it is,” Addison told her, gazing into her eyes glassed over with tears, “without you getting hurt. I don’t want you to do this alone as much as you don’t want me to help.”
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 15, 2006 17:55:34 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 15, 2006 17:55:34 GMT -5
Tatum shook her head at Addison's words, and inwardly she pictured the myriad terrible ways that all of this would play out. In her mind, she could see only one final resolution to all of it. Some harm would come to Addison, perhaps not a physical one, but in any case, he would come away hating her and being sorry he ever felt a pang of sympathy for the plight of the Irish witch. Very slowly, as if she expected to be violently pushed away, she brought a small hand to rest on his cheek, that same proximity still between them as she spoke once more in her soft timbre.
"What if ye come te regret gettin involved with this thing, Addison?"
And though she had used the word thing as if she meant the situation, the look in her eyes bellied the fact that the word had really been 'me.' It was obvious in her expression that she could not think of a single reason why anyone would want to help someone like her, either in this situation or any other. Even perhaps with the promise of a cut of the money, she still could not see how she would ever be worth the risk.
"Ye dinna understand me brother. What he's capable of sendin me in te. All o'this could go very badly."
She dropped her hand to her side quickly as if doing so in a rapid way would make him forget that it had been there at all. Already knowing enough about the wizard to know that he was the argumentative sort, she was poised for him to disagree, to offer his help once more, but before he could move to speak, she reached behind her and clasped the pull of her dress' zipper, quickly undoing it a few inches so the top of her back could be viewed.
She turned quickly around before he could question the strange action, giving him first a view of one of the runic characters tattooed on her spine, visible where the fabric parted around the teeth of the zipper. She moved her hand then to pull the fabric aside, however, so he could catch a glimpse of a thick raised scar that wound it's way from the lower region of her back over the bared skin before disappearing back under the dress.
"We were in Thailand with me older brother makin a sale. I was fourteen an he was nineteen. Durin the night, Mannix stole a watch from some important dignitary he bumped inte on the street. When we were on our way back te the port, he handed it over te me, asked me te carry it because he had a hole in his pocket. I dinna think much o'it until we came te a market place. They were stoppin everyone an searchin them, an I could ni duck inte the crowds fast enough. He had heard about the search at a pub earlier in the day."
She paused long enough to re-do her dress and then turned back to Addison, her tone darkening as she continued.
"Ye see in Rayong in those days they killed any man caught stealin. But they only gave the women ten lashes."
Her eyes went to the ground. "After six I could ni stay on me feet. An because I was ni of age, they decided that was enough."
She was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed upon her shoes as if they were the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Inwardly, she marvelled at the fact that she had just re-told that story. Even when her ex-husband had asked about the scars, she had lied about their origins. But she was as desperate to protect him from all of this as he was in her case and if she needed to bare a bit of her past to do so, she was willing.
Raising her eyes again, she repeated, this time nearly pleading "I canna let ye get involved."
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Awake.
Sept 15, 2006 21:56:09 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 15, 2006 21:56:09 GMT -5
She didn’t come off as the personality for touch. Thus, when her hand rose, he flinched fleetingly. A blink-of-the-eye-and-you-missed-it kind of thing, but it happened. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. A slap for getting too involved in the situation, mayhaps. We can’t act like the slap hadn’t happened before. Thankfully it was gentler than anticipated, despite how awkward this situation was, standing here. Of all places. Discussing unlawful rendezvous. The main concern with her hand against his face was the issue of the stubble, however. He was sure when she removed her hand that the skin on her palm would scrape clear off because he hadn’t touched a razor in so long. He hadn’t felt self conscious about the matter until now. Hell of a time for it.
Tatum had a thing for good questions and these were one of them. This was a question he wished he could think over for the rest of the day and come back with a well thought out answer that’d make her rethink her rejection stance, but this was the here and now. The here and now did not permit the ‘let me think about it’ option. He was screwed and backed into a corner. “If I didn’t know what the hell I was doing here, why would I be offering to help you, Tatum?” he asked her, the first logical thing that came to mind. He’d done some even shadier behavior in the past besides smuggling meds. Whether that would come in handy, he didn’t know. But he’d rather keep an eye out for her than admit he was a dumbarse and back out…Sure. Part of it may have been the money. All human beings possessed that ugly greed. Greed dated back to the very start of the world. All possessed it. But the other part of his desire to play accomplice was to look after her. He’d made a connection with her. What it was, he was still unsure. But it was the kind of connection that didn’t want you to ever witness the day that someone on the other side of the connection got hurt.
“It could,” he agreed, inhaling slowly. Her scent was picked up by his senses because of the close proximity between them. “But how much uglier would it get if you did this one-handedly?” The hand dropped. He half expected the flesh of her hand to rip off on his face, but it didn’t. Perhaps he’d been over exaggerating about the stubble serration.
The unclasping of the dress made his eyebrows furrow as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He analyzed her back, not wanting to act like a dolt and ask what he was supposedly looking at, but he was very tempted to do so. He finally caught a glimpse of the first few runes and a scar unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He listened to the story, the significance of this situation sinking into his consciousness like a strong poison. This was unlike anything he’d ever done before. He’d broken into houses in the past when he’d been on the verge of eviction. But it quickly became more apparent she was more experienced than he’d given her credit for.
Perhaps the lack of her touch for those few moments urged him to move. So he did. He gradually raised his hand to rest under her jaw line, his index finger momentarily resting on her chin as he watched her, having no idea she’d had such a history. How much had unfolded about this person he’d only just helped a while ago at some crappy bar. Retracting his finger and then his hand after a few moments more of observation, he shook his head solemnly. “My offer stands. If I’m more of a hassle than assistance, I’ll let you decide,” he said with much effort. Giving in burned. It burned bad. But it seemed common law women won disagreements.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 16, 2006 9:30:03 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 16, 2006 9:30:03 GMT -5
Tatum shrugged her shoulders helplessly as Addison spoke of the likelihood that things would go badly if she tried to go it alone. As much as she wished to scoff at that notion and assure him that all would be well, she could not. She had not once lied to Addison Blankenship, and she certainly did not intend to do so well. The truth was that she had no idea what type of wizard this mystic was, what he was capable of, and as much as she had it in her to do what was neccessary for self-preservation, she had her fill of having blood on her hands in her past life and her work days. Having Addison with her would simplify things immensely. But allowing him to put himself in harm's way on her behalf made her insides churn.
She could tell by his expression that her story had made an impact, that perhaps he could see that her brother was capable of sending her to the slaughter, that his own self-interest ruled every move he made. It had just been a simple example, and it was the easiest one to reveal. One scar on the outside that was easier to relate to than the myriad ones Mannix had left within her.
Perhaps someday she would let those deep wounds come to the light.
Perhaps someday she would tell Addison of the things the brother that had once been nearly her soul's companion had taken from her, including the one purloined treasure that she could never forgive him for.
But today was not that day.
And then he was touching her, and she was looking up into his eyes as he studied her. She fixed her own ice blue orbs upon his face, searching for a telltale sign of what he was thinking. Inside, she pondered the conundrum of what conclusion she really wished him to come to. Her own resolve was weakening under his gaze, and she silently told herself that if he offered a third time despite all she had said, she would accept.
"Ye could ni ever be a hassle, Addison," she said quietly. And for the first time during that afternoon, she smiled at him. It was not a bright and cheerful expression, but it was a genuine one, one borne from her gratitude.
And while she was grateful that he would help, she was even more so that he had seen her worth enough to fight, to not let her push him away. Apart from a frenzied sexual conquest, no one was up for the challenge that was Tatum MacNamara. No one, that is, except for him.
"I dinna want te do this alone," she confessed finally, her hand returning to his face again of its own volition, though this time it remained at the side of his face, her slender fingers stroking at his temple as if she was smoothing a wayward hair into place.
It seemed that his bravery called for some of her own, and so rallying everything within her, she spoke again.
"But I dinna want te, te lose ye. Yer the only person who's ever wanted te stick their neck out fer me like this. I would ni want yer only thanks te be meetin with some trouble. " She paused, letting her hand slip back to his cheek, her thumb now tracing a gentle arc over his cheekbone.
"Ye have te promise me that ye will ni hate me if things go bad."
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Awake.
Sept 17, 2006 17:30:12 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 17, 2006 17:30:12 GMT -5
(Sara + Lack of creativity = Hella hella bad post.)
“Never speak too soon,” he warned her. Addison knew he did have the capability of screwing up big time like any other human being. But at the same time, he did have faith in his own ability. Perhaps that was the most significant factor of all. Without faith the chance of letdown was more than probable. Her smile still made him precautious, however. If a screw up on his account did occur, there was the risk he’d harm her- someone that he was originally trying to protect. That would be a raw taste of irony that wouldn’t wear off his tongue for years to come. Addison concluded that the chances of her getting hurt would be far more likely if she didn’t have backup, despite those lingering doubts that lurked inside the depths of his mind. There would always be those what-ifs. He just couldn’t let them taunt him a great deal.
Apparently she concluded the same thing, which put his mind at ease a bit. The sensation of her fingertips against his skin didn’t exactly hurt matters, either, he’d admit. A woman having concern for him was hazardous as putting your finger in the garbage disposal, but it flew right over his head. What distracted him from that matter was her last statement. “I can’t ever hate you for a decision I make,” he told her quietly, a bit confused as to why she’d be afraid of him loathing her for his own choices. That was pretty screwy.
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Tatum MacNamara
Junior Member
Healer
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Posts: 128
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Awake.
Sept 18, 2006 17:51:16 GMT -5
Post by Tatum MacNamara on Sept 18, 2006 17:51:16 GMT -5
Inwardly, Tatum disagreed, knowing all too well that someone could make a decision on their own volition and then in the end hate them for it. When she met Padric she had been two months pregnant with another man's child and something about the little Irish witch had endeared her to him and after just a short time knowing her, he proposed marriage. At first, she had declined, telling him that she was not the sort to be a wife, that she was not capable of the emotion of love, that she would only ever see him as a dear friend. He had insisted that he did not care, that just being with her would be enough. But once Maeve was gone, their house had seemed so empty without her spirit to fill it, and Tatum was unable to even muster a shred of tenderness through her own grief. It happened slowly, but soon Padric came to despise her, hate her for the things she could not give to him, the things she had told him from the front that she was incapable of.
It had been a hard enough thing to see that hatred in a man that she felt no connection with apart from years lived under the same roof. She could not imagine what it would be like with Addison, who she already had such an addinity toward.
And so, his quiet words brought a smile to her face, and her arms came slowly to wrap around his neck, more out of impulse than anything, as if the action was an extension of the warm thoughts within her. Turning her face slowly, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before whispering softly.
"Thank ye, Addison. Ye canna know how much this means te me."
She clung to him for a moment as it felt strangely natural to do so, but then after a moment, she seemed to come to her senses and quickly released him, stepping back as a flush came to her cheeks.
Looking down at her feet with an embarrassed smile, she muttered, "I'm sorry. I -- lost me head an --" she laughed lightly and looked up once more, trying to make light of what she assumed was her unwelcome touch. "Here I go makin ye sorry ye've said yes already."
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Awake.
Sept 19, 2006 19:30:58 GMT -5
Post by Addison Blankenship on Sept 19, 2006 19:30:58 GMT -5
He felt as if he were in a daze as everything happened: the gradual pulling in by the casual arm around the neck routine… Even the nonchalant kiss against his skin felt unreal. It brought faint alarm, but for what felt like once in a lifetime he didn’t react to that alarm and push back. He didn’t do a full rotation around his surroundings to check if anyone was watching or if anyone had just seen what happened. He didn’t care about those things. And it felt brilliant. Why he hadn’t felt such a way before was completely over his head. He didn’t have an answer to why he’d never experienced that carelessness he’d always sought. That carelessness that everyone so nonchalantly pulled off without a second thought. He’d always envied that quality in others, and just for that moment he’d achieved it. He doubted he was able to respond coherently when she thanked him.
“Anything I can do to help…let me know,” Addison said gradually, surprising himself a fair amount as his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Perhaps the cause of it had been the mere awkwardness of just standing there…or curiosity. But as soon as the moment had taken place, it was gone. Like a rug swept out from under one’s feet.
“Nothing you did needed an apology,” he assured her. It was apparent he hadn’t been scared off by the touch. Her, however…he was still trying to figure that one out. Until he did, he was hesitant about doing too much and too soon.
Addison quietly cleared his throat after a few moments of awkward silence. “I uhm…should go check on your brother,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. His eyes flickered back to her, an eyebrow raised. “As long as you’re alright?”
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