|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Nov 14, 2012 1:36:50 GMT -8
So, three months.
And where was Bastille? Avoiding Dragon Territory at all costs. She was restless and stupidly emotional over there. Here? Here she could silence them and turn them off. Here she could think and allow herself to wallow in the sea of bland behavior. The only problem? She had yet to fully "return" the the world of the living. Sure the Dragons know Bastille was alive....hell, so did Barker at this point. She'd kept that letter she'd received to herself not wishing to hand it anywhere near the molecular reach of her fiance. Ew, that word....why did it make her all- nope, no emotion today. Turned those off remember? Instead she was here to further ignore her pregnancy and instead turn over the letter to Unfettered. She'd rather he keep it. Sure she trusted Amtrum,- trusted him to be a reckless idiot. She could count on discretion from the nazi.
She shivered as a cold spell passed over her body, but otherwise continued to hug her knees in her giant black cloak, rocking back and forth and sporting a pair of sunglasses to cover where ever her eyes chose to roam. (although they hadn't left the spot on the wall, following a rather persistent fly some 10 meters away) The one thing she was missing was her red wig. Nope- instead her blond silver mix hair was out for all to see and recognize...should any of them have heard of her. More or less most of them just seemed confused as to who she could be or why she was sitting in the cargo hold, on top of a box of random valuables rocking herself back and forth like a crazy person. She paid no passer by any heed as she continued on her creepy staring contest with the fly.
So here she was, rocking back and forth like a mental patient, staring at a fly and doing what? Absolutely nothing. She figured she'd sit there till someone tried to forcefully move her. Her only real goal was to continue avoiding dragon territory and Mathew. She had her reasons, and she didn't always follow normal logic.....but reasons where reasons. How she'd come to get there? who the hell even knows....
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 29, 2012 2:07:14 GMT -8
Just on a casual stroll through the Crow territory, Delilah had finally agreed (hesitantly and after much incessant pleading) to let her young son out of the Crows base for the first time in what felt like eons. Though it hadn't started out as a mere 'casual stroll': Delilah was working, as always, taking stock of the people in their territory and their needs, seeing what was progressing and what needed...to be dealt with. If necessary.
But today, the overly enthusiastic five year old was sprinting to and fro from this building to that, looking on with great interest as people tilled their 'fields' for the next spring. The boy's presence seemed to liven their spirits, and it was doing wonders for Delilah's own mood. There were only a few squabbles over the fair distribution of food and work-avoidance to deal with. Nice that there were no reports of murder or theft or rape. She would have hated to put the katana she wore at her hip to use in front of her son.
Again.
Then, Oliver, with his curious mismatched eyes and shock of white hair, noticed a girl sitting up the road, rocking back and forth. The gleam of silver and gold struck him as odd and he stopped in his senseless flailing to look back at his mother, who was following quietly behind him.
"Mama?"
She glanced away from the shoddily constructed fence that had been a work in progress for the last two weeks. It could wait. "Yes, love?"
"Onna." <Woman.> he said solemnly, pointing at the girl. It took a moment for Delilah to register who the woman was, as she was not immediately familiar. Then her expression cleared and she started striding forward, beckoning to Oliver. A worry line started to form between her eyebrows as she neared, remembering her conversation with Mathew a couple weeks earlier.
Her pace slowed as she got close, trying to be casual and not give away her previously gained knowledge. She stood beside the British girl, smiling, but unable to keep herself from looking worried.
"Bastille."
Oliver rushed up behind his mother, peering around her legs at the strange girl rocking back and forth, looking at her with his unsettling obsidian eye.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Dec 31, 2012 0:46:48 GMT -8
Bastille stopped her rocking and looked over at the girl.
"Hello" She said quietly. Yes, something was definitely wrong. Bastille was never one for formal greetings and it was in fact, that as of this moment, she had just used one sparingly. She turned back to staring ahead blankly.
"I really shouldn't have said that, gives everything away really. Hello, such an impartial word- passive aggressive really." Her British accent was thicker than most days.
She had not taken the time to really recognize Delilah although she was a bit hazy to start, so......it would definitely take her a couple minutes. It wasn't like she didnt know who she was.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 31, 2012 1:24:44 GMT -8
"Hello"
Delilah balked. Did...did she just say 'hello'?
Okay, something wasn't right. And now that she had gotten a better look at her, she realized things were bad indeed with the British girl.
"I really shouldn't have said that, gives everything away really. Hello, such an impartial word- passive aggressive really."
Eyebrows lifting, Delilah knew a girl in a funk when she saw one. Though she couldn't begin to understand why Bastille was freaking out...she felt a hint of deja vu when she looked at her.
Desperate, anxious, detatched...she had felt this way before. Looking back at Oliver, a sad smile played across her lips. Oh, yes. She thought she knew.
Clapping her hands together once -- to jolt Bastille into alertness--, Delilah sat down on the bench beside the gold and silver haired girl. The white haired boy clambered up beside his mother, still peering around her uncertainly at the strange, disheveled girl with an accent similar to his father's.
"So. I haven't seen you in a while." she said casually enough. Turning her head to look at the girl, Delilah couldn't help but look concerned at the apparent discomfort her friend was displaying. "...How are you?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Dec 31, 2012 10:35:24 GMT -8
"Well, right now, I am in terms of the word "how" short still in stature, slightly hunched and rocking for comfort as I believe my backside has indeed gone numb. Although you probably meant in other terms, and for that my answer is simple; ....I have no bleeding clue." She said a smirk crossing her lips , but it was quickly replaced with a frown.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 31, 2012 18:06:51 GMT -8
"Well, right now, I am in terms of the word "how" short still in stature, slightly hunched and rocking for comfort as I believe my backside has indeed gone numb. Although you probably meant in other terms, and for that my answer is simple; ....I have no bleeding clue."
She couldn't help but smile at the half-attempt at humour, perhaps with a shade of wistfulness. Remembering when she found out about Oliver and the only people she trusted to tell at the time. Her heart ached for those times of simple love her surrogate family had shown her.
Now she was sure that her coming here was not an accident. As little as Delilah believed in divine intervention, she was certain that everything happened for a reason. And whether or not it was just one big cosmic coincidence mattered little to her now; she was here and her friend needed that same uncompromising love. She could give back what she had been given.
She just had to try to not be mushy, was all.
Delilah reached out slowly with her arm and put it around Bastille's shoulders, pulling her into a one armed hug.
"That's okay, you know," she said in a soft voice that was somehow rough at the same time. "You don't need to know how you feel. But you need to understand that at the end of the day, you won't be alone."
Delilah would give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting her go. "Either of you," she finished, indicating Bastille's plus one.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Dec 31, 2012 21:54:03 GMT -8
"Any of you." She corrected. "Any not either" she stilled in her movements, just staring blankly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Dec 31, 2012 23:12:21 GMT -8
Delilah couldn't help but blink in surprise at the admission, and then it slowly dawned on her just how much that prospect was bothering Bastille. Giving birth in this day and age was ONE thing, but MULTIPLES?
That added a whole new level to why Bastille was freaking out. Now that Delilah understood that, she would have to try and soothe her as much as humanly possible. Best to start with a relevant topic change.
"...If you're having multiples,' she began slowly, coaxingly, "And you're this worried, might I ask what you're doing all the way out here? I would have thought Mathew would be keeping you under lock and key."
Oliver tugged on the hem of his mother's shirt.
"Mama, what are 'multiples' and why is she having them?"
Delilah blanched, her head swiveling rapidly to look down at her son. "Uh...it means Auntie Bastille will have more than one baby."
"Ooooh. Where are they? When will they be here? How are they getting here?" He grinned up at her eagerly. He had been asking these sorts of questions for months after being informed by Birch that it would be REALLY FUNNY to ask his mother about these sorts of things.
Delilah stared down at him for a moment, thinking of a five-year old friendly way of describing it and fund herself unable. "Ask your father."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 1, 2013 1:56:36 GMT -8
Bastille ignored most of their conversation. She wasn't in shock, or worried. In fact, she was more worried that she was the opposite. She was okay with this. This being; that she was going to bind herself permanently to a man she pretty much thought she hated, she was going to have a white wedding, she was going to have his children, two of them.....everything was just- okay. In fact, she got those odd fluttery semi hot feeling that sparked through out her stomach and pinged to her finger tips. Whatever that feeling was, she hated it. It only made her shiver more.
"Trying to turn it off"
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Jan 1, 2013 22:09:37 GMT -8
"Turn off what? The feelings?"
Delilah raised an eyebrow at the girl. Oliver was now watching the two women openly. It wasn't often Mama visited with other women and they sounded friendly enough...
Maybe she was trustworthy too?
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 3, 2013 11:09:36 GMT -8
"If thats what you call them, I think them more as hormonal distorts from the center of your brain that result in excessive temperature changes in your body." She said with a wistful nod of her head.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Jan 3, 2013 19:00:51 GMT -8
"So, the feelings." she said with a nod. Chemical functions or no, a spade was a spade. Delilah leaned forward slightly, putting her elbows on her knees as she looked out at the scenery.
"You didn't answer my question. About why you're here and why Mathew is probably ripping Long Beach in half looking for you?"
Assuming, of course, that he didn't know she was leaving or where she was at the moment.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 3, 2013 23:47:08 GMT -8
"dearest fiance doesnt worry about me much. His arrogance about my being selflessly and ironically completely attached to him keeps him from thinking this might in anyway be permineant..............." She sighed. "the most unfortunate part about that is he is probably right." And with that she sunk lower, although her expression remained horribly nonchalant.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Jan 6, 2013 23:40:10 GMT -8
"So, let me get this straight," Delilah began after a few moments of contemplative silence, "The man asks you to marry him--congratulations by the way. I think.--, you live with him in Dragon Territory, are pregnant with his children and you doubt that he would want to keep you around? Or is it that you don't want to be tied down and think that he might see this as permanent?"
As it was, Delilah was having trouble keeping up with Bastille's mixed emotions, though that was to be expected when comparing one completely sane, non-hormonal,rational woman to another whose emotional response neurons were having a title match in her brain.
Oliver was following none of this and contented himself with fiddling with the many pockets on his mother's tool belt.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jan 14, 2013 23:36:35 GMT -8
"He didn't ask me, he more like, said it....." She paused a bit and shifted her eyes about then nodded. "Yah, said." She sighed. "Then of course within months I figure out that I'm pregnant- ironic really. He was surprised, we both were.....fucks sake I'm still getting used to him liking me."
She looked at the kid, her eyes still pouting but curious.
|
|
