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Post by Vespyr on Feb 17, 2013 20:35:53 GMT -8
Catching
Cain's eyes opened narrowly as he felt the girl move closer, her arm slipping over his warm shoulders and her… well. He hadn't expected this much sudden hospitality, to say the least, from the woman who enjoyed poking his broken ribs for sport and seemed to delight in the twinges of pain she elicited from him. His gaunt face was expressionless as he leaned his head comfortably against her, and his deep red eyes seemed lost in the shadows on the floor for a long moment before finally closing… satisfied, but deeply bemused.
It wouldn't take him long to fall asleep, as he'd been fighting against it ever since he woke up not too long ago. Delilah hardly had to lift a finger to tire him out. The lady's got real brass… Cain thought as he… gave her knee a weak… squeeze… and fell… asl…
. . .
…irsty. Thirsty. So fucking thirsty oh my god what the fuck.
Cain snapped awake with an aggravated twitch, furrowing his brow as the vehemently frustrated thoughts scattered from his mind before he could remember precisely what they were. The man's dreams had been black and viscous and tortured by thirst, but nothing else was clear. His blazing red eyes glared at nothing in particular for a few moments before he realized he was awake and relaxed a little against the… soft chest of Delilah, and his shoulders cradled by her arm. After a second to recollect, he slowly leaned forward away from her and the seat… his bare shoulders and back peeling away from the hot leather that was quite damp from his feverish sweating all night long. He balked silently, grimacing at the sticky sensation coating his skin. It felt hot and cold all at once; his body radiated sickly heat but the chill morning air alighting on his moist skin sent chills down to his core. Cain swallowed uncomfortably and found that his mouth and throat weren't dry, but perfectly fine, even a little too moist if anything. And yet he felt thirsty.
It was infuriating.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 17, 2013 21:11:59 GMT -8
Delilah tilted her head back to the ceiling as Cain cozied up with her prompting, closing her eyes with a soft, tired sigh. Regathering herself, collecting her wits. She meditated into the night with Cain sleeping at her chest. The slow breaths he drew were comforting, almost. A reminder that in spite of all the lives she had ended, there were a few that she had saved. Though with how tenacious this one was, he probably would have survived on his own anyway. Crawled into the sewers and lived there in the darkness, cackling at the stupid people who traipsed about in the sun.
This amusing (and rather implausible) thought in the back of her mind, Delilah listened to the sounds of the night and to the feverish heart beat of Cain Perrish.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_* [/b] Morning arrived, a few hours before Cain awoke. He had slept somewhat fitfully, but consistently; she had expected this. If he was too still, she would have had to wake him (and for whatever reason, this man seemed like he would be something of a rabid dog if woken outside his sleep schedule) to prevent him from slipping into a coma. While he had slept, her mind had turned over the occurrences of the last afternoon. She had remembered the odd words the Experiment/sage had spoken to Cain and a few other details that might help the punk-ish man. Just as she was thinking this over, he woke, moving away from her and the chair and... seething. By her estimation. He did NOT appear happy, at any rate. She leaned forward after him with a soft groan; the arm of a chair was not an ideal resting position. The hand that had been resting on his shoulders moved up his back to the base of his neck. She frowned. Warm waaay too warm. She activated her Qi, letting cool metal slither into the palm of her hand where it rested, between his shoulder blades. The eye on the back of his head was unnerving. "Worse?"[/size]
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 17, 2013 21:32:32 GMT -8
Cain shivered noticeably at the cool touch, a little confused.
"No," he lied, drawing a labored breath. God, the sickness would have been bearable if it weren't for his broken ribs making it a chore to breathe. The hand on Delilah's knee slid off and reached around for yesterday's water bottle, bringing it back into his lap, and to his lips. Emptied it. Didn't help; only made him more thirsty. Cain grimaced in silent frustration, his face turned away from the girl for a few moments as he sighed like a wounded, caged animal.
Hot damn, i could go for a bath.
Cain pushed the blanket off and glanced down at his bandages emotionlessly. There was nothing at all wrong with his legs, so he'd just fucking walk, he decided. He pressed his hands against the seat and pushed himself up to his feet with some difficulty. Standing brought a lightheaded feeling behind his eyes and a flash of conflicting heat and chill to his strained nerves. In the battle between his body and his pride, the tall man swayed a little but wouldn't fall. Standing felt better, anyhow, after sitting for so long. He turned, flicking his deep red gaze over to Delilah with a half-assed, stubborn grin.
"Where are we?"
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 17, 2013 22:11:52 GMT -8
She didn't call him out on his lie, it was too obvious that it didn't even need to be said. She slid off the arm of the chair with him though as he rose, ready to catch him should he fall, which he did not. She raised an impressed eyebrow at him as he turned to look at her, smiling wryly. Men and their pride. It was the same almost everywhere you went. "Unfettered", Stu, David, Marcus. And Cain, apparently.
He was restless, antsy even. And it was so amusing.
"Near the down-town water front." she replied. She put her hands on her lower back and bent backwards until her body formed a neat little bridge, her spine crackling as she stretched, sighing with pleasure. She righted herself and rolled her shoulders; these too popped and snapped. "And you're not going anywhere until you get something on your stomach." more of a direction than a request.
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 17, 2013 22:50:44 GMT -8
While eying the girl as she bent over, Cain made a mental map of the location based on his previous ventures… multitasking. He groaned inwardly as he counted the streets he'd be walking, and considered calling Gunner again for another attempt at stealing a car from Vespyr's garage. Oh… Gunner.
Last time he'd spoken with his brother, the tone had been slightly urgent, and then Cain had disappeared overnight. He was surprised the radio hadn't given a single crackle since then… but at his next thought, his expression darkened a little spitefully, and he no longer felt any surprise at all. Gunner hadn't called him because Gunner didn't have the radio.
Someone else did.
Cain reached for the radio on his belt and paced a few steps away from Delilah, turning his back. He steadied himself with a feigned casual air by leaning a hand on the counter.
"Leech to Tick, over." he growled, without expecting a reply from the man he'd addressed.
*"Hi, Leech."* someone else answered. There was something sinister about the lack of emotion in her voice.
"Bitch."
*"Good morning to you, too. Rough night?"* [/color] the radio replied, with mock offense, completely unsympathetic. "Pretty fuckin' swell, actually. I'm guessin' you didn't need the truck for anything yesterday."*"No, it's just been sitting here all night."*"And I'm guessin' that's because you'd get a kick out of me crawling back on my hands and knees, yeah?"*"Precisely. If you die on the streets it's your own fault. If you survive, as we both know you've got an uncanny knack for,"[/b] *[/i] the woman's lowered at some dark implication, *"then you don't need help."*"I wouldn't fuckin' want your help anyway. You tell Gunner to meet me at Long Beach and PCH. Then I'll be seein' you real soon. Over."*"Out."*Cain hissed and shoved the radio back into his belt with his back still turned, his hackles bristling. Waves of seething heat seemed to emanate from him for a few moments before dying down a little, though his skin was still hot with the fever… or whatever the hell was eating at him. He turned again toward Delilah, expressionless. "I don't suppose you've got bacon or anything around here," he said, dryly sarcastic.[/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 17, 2013 23:24:51 GMT -8
She watched him closely, trying not to yawn and give in to her own tiredness. It was interesting how she could almost see the thoughts as they flitted over his face, changing his expression and the way those red eyes of his shimmered. She said nothing as he stepped a few feet away, lifting the radio to his ear, calling for 'Gunner' again.
But it wasn't Gunner who answered.
Delilah listened intently to the malevolent female voice on the other end, finding herself smiling without really meaning to, or feeling like smiling. Something about her voice put a cold thrill of dread in the pit of her stomach. Which was odd. Women didn't really illicit that reaction from her. Now she was very curious. And certain that this was more than a 'dysfunctional family'.
She only raised a questioning, smug eyebrow at him as he turned to look at her; What was that all about, Dear Liar~?, laughing silently at his request for bacon.
"Pigs are ridiculously hard to breed and keep and, sadly, most pawnshops don't have working stoves. I have...canned peaches and more beans. Acres of them."
Delilah lifted and dropped a shoulder in a half shrug. What she had was what she had.
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 17, 2013 23:45:06 GMT -8
Cain shrugged as well, disinterested, his face emotionless.
"Not hungry anyway," he admitted, which was strangely true. Thirsty, but… not hungry. Or perhaps it was the nauseous feeling that dissuaded him from feeling it, lest he were unable to keep whatever he ate from coming up again.
The man flicked his gaze around the room, looking anything of his. He remembered his jacket would still be somewhere around Alamitos Avenue and he didn't really care enough to get it back. The shirt as well, he couldn't give a shit about. His hands slipped down to his pockets to check for his knife, but didn't find it. However… Cain's long fingers slipped into his back pocket and pulled something else out, holding up to investigate with dark curiosity in his eyes.
A vial of blood?
Straight-faced, and just as smoothly as he pulled it out, Cain slid the vial back into his pocket. Only a faint twinge of bewilderment and foreboding lingered on his brow but he turned away without a word and would begin making his way to the door… carefully. He supposed Delilah would accompany him, given her insistence on the matter last night. Arguing about it seemed to be the last thing on Cain's mind now, the man becoming… strangely quiet and unsmiling. At the door, he'd even wait for the girl to catch up with him and to catch his breath even though she'd probably get there first because his progress would be so encumbered. And when he instinctively pushed the door open from his shoulder, it wouldn't give, and Cain succeeded in shoving all his unsteady weight toward the door with an uncomfortable thud against the glass. He slumped toward it with his eyes closed and sighed in tired annoyance, tipping his head forward to rest against the pane in apparent defeat.
Fuckin' locks.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 18, 2013 0:12:57 GMT -8
She watched him hobble to the door with the faintest expression of sympathetic amusement on her face, following him quietly and trying very hard not to grin, slipping the knives back into their places on her belt. But she supposed finding the situation funny was better than taking pity on him. It just seemed to irk him so much. But he seemed to be holding together rather well.
She watched him ram himself into the door as he tried to open it without unlocking it.
...Well right up until THAT point, anyway.
The weary groan nearly undid her and she lifted a hand to hide her wide grin before letting a more empathetic one take it's place. "A for effort," She cooed as she stepped towards him, gingerly taking his arm and pulling him away from the door and slinging it over her shoulders. She disengaged the locks, slipped her arm around his waist, and pushed the door open with her foot. Walking him forward steadily, she flicked her gaze up to him, curious.
"Carrying you would be faster..."
if his pride could bear it, anyway.
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 18, 2013 0:30:26 GMT -8
A weary eye opened to peer silently at the girl as she took his place. Cain's determined composure seemed to have worn significantly in the short time between now and his conversation on the radio; a little more than just the illness weighed him down, seemingly, but his gritted teeth divulged nothing as he reluctantly leaned toward Delilah… a little more heavily than he probably realized. But there went his pride again, definitely pathetic awe-inspiring in its unyielding efforts to remain stubborn as an ass headstrong.The man shook his head a little groggily at Delilah. Only way you're carryin' my ass is if it fuckin' hits the ground.
Cain stepped forward through the door, and kept stepping, willful to match her pace or out-match it if she was slowing down for him. His head hung a little low with his crimson eyes lowered to the ground to stare at his bloodstained boots as he walked, and occasionally at the girl's feet as well, only refocusing his attention upward when they came to cross-streets. East was the way to go until they came to Long Beach Boulevard, and then it was North all the way. |
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 18, 2013 0:40:24 GMT -8
And so, the adventurous pair headed East! Away from the safe borders of Crow territory and back into the Lion's Den...or just Barker territory. Yesterday was one of the few times she had been attacked in the area and she had a sneaking suspicion that was a lot to do with Cain's pastime of wrecking already ruined cars.
She kept her pace steady, letting him lead for the most part while she took the bulk of his weight onto her person to give him an easier time of walking. In the cool light of the morning, his skin was still remarkably warm, as though he had been bathing in scalding water for hours on end. But how he looked and acted...the sickness was getting to him. Or perhaps it was something else?
She gave the hand pulled across her shoulders a light squeeze, looking into his face (though his gaze did not quite meet hers). "Funny way to meet somebody, mm?" she spoke jovially, but quietly, not wanting to attract attention. "Break some shit, kill some Barker goons, celebrate in a pawn shop. Which, by the way, if you want to loot, you can have."
Most safe-houses were a one time deal anyway.
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 18, 2013 1:05:39 GMT -8
A strained grin crept at the corners of Cain's mouth as Delilah spoke, noticing and perhaps appreciating that she left out the part where whatthefuckevenhappened.
"Sounds like a good day to me," the man rasped, almost cynical. But not quite. More than most people, perhaps, Cain was acceptant of the old 'shit happens' excuse for life's shortcomings. Perhaps he was a little less able to brush this one off like nothing had happened, and for how long it'd be like this was yet to be seen, but it was the same deal as ever. He could easily have looked at the bright side: 'hey, at least i wasn't assaulted and almost drowned and stuck in a coma for a week again'; but instead, he just looked at the ground.
Still bitter. Not just at the strange man who'd done this, but at the even stranger woman who he'd have the absolute pleasure of facing… like this. Sick as the dogs she sacrificed, panting and sweating and hardly able to stand. He bristled at the thought, a trickle of sweat moving down the length of his neck at the heat of the sun, or something else. He glanced up as they approached a major street corner, narrowing his blazing red stare at the morning sunlight in the east. Wishing he had his sunglasses.
"This way," he nodded northward, changing the direction to cross the street and move up along Long Beach. He wondered if Gunner would be there, at the intersection halfway between here and home. Vespyr would probably have ignored his request and left Gunner wondering, leaving Cain with no chaperone to get Delilah off his back… so he could make it back to Rogues territory without dragging her with him. That just wouldn't fly. The man gritted his teeth and racked his brain, and hoped Gunner would be there.
"Just… a few blocks."
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 18, 2013 1:14:12 GMT -8
Delilah tilted her head at him a little as they walked. He seemed...Mopey. Brooding. Like there was something he was dreading. She thought back to the feeling she had gotten from the voice on the other end of the radio at his hip. She made a private note of his squinting eyes and jacketlessness. Perhaps she would be able to remedy that. A plan churned in the back of her mind as they walked, stepping with agonizing slowness as they passed street after empty street.
"And where, exactly, is home for you?' same quiet, curious voice, prompting more information from this man she knew almost nothing about. She remembered him mouthing 'mom?' in his delirium. "Do you live there with your 'family' or on your own?"
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 18, 2013 1:27:39 GMT -8
Cain chuckled strangely, remembering… the term he had used to evade her questions last night. Family. The only real family he had left was Gunner. Mom was dead and buried in their backyard in Huntington Beach. Dad had never been there. Aunt Daggy killed herself back in '98. And that was all of them… that he was aware of.
…But then there were the Rogues. Within itself, the gang resembled nothing of what a family should have been… but it was small and intimate enough to get the same kind of reactions. With Vespyr and Vincent at the helm of the household, they faltered between authoritarian and negligent in their duties as, what Cain supposed would be in this awry analogy, the parents. Vespyr was the furthest thing from maternal that any human being could possibly be, and as the patron, when she wasn't harshly patronizing she was completely absent. She let her children run wild, but when punishment was due, it was fuckin' due.
"Just me, my brother…" Cain trailed off, realizing that there was still one unaccounted for if he was going to keep up with the lie that he only lived with family. He quickly came up with something that seemed appropriate.
"That was my cousin you heard on the radio, she's kind of a bitch, as you can gather."
He glanced up, as they'd be approaching 7th street. |
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 18, 2013 1:42:17 GMT -8
"Uh-huh," she stated, completely unbelieving, looking ahead of them. Keen blue eyes swiveled left and right as she habitually looked to see if there was anything to take notice of. Probably not, but you never know.
Had this been anyone else, she might have asked--or insisted-- upon taking a rest to help him regain his strength. She was aware this would be met with flat out refusal and, she didn't think that was really his style. He had perseverance and determination like no other man she'd met...it actually reminded her (a little vain today, aren't we? SHUT UP[/COLOR]) a little of herself. It was what would keep him alive in the weeks and months to come, most likely anyway. She thought back to what the strange Experiment man had said to him. Remembering the little vial he had pulled out of his pocket. Ideas began to form, faster now, a swirling vortex deep in the recesses of her mind.
But for now, she would focus on trying to keep him as much company as possible, for as long as she could.
"And I take it your kin aren't too fond of the wrong type of girl, such as myself~?" teasing again, and a little self effacing. But still curious.
Ever so curious.[/size]
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Post by Vespyr on Feb 18, 2013 1:56:40 GMT -8
Well, Gunner never seemed to find interest in anyone ever, and Vespyr was… well. The ratio of men to women in Rogues spoke for itself: 47 to 3, roughly, excluding the Commander herself.
"Not fond a'girls in general, actually." Cain replied, raising his brow a little bit. "Dunno what it is. She just fuckin'…" he trailed off, weakly raising his hands with little claw motions while he made a silly-looking snarl face to emphasize it. His hands dropped limp again and he shook his head lightly in something like disbelief, closing his eyes. "Bitch hates bitches. But I don't see what's not to like about girls..."
"...'specially the wrong type," [/b] he grinned, throwing her a little sidelong glance. Seeming to cheer up just a little bit. [/blockquote][/size] |
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