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Post by Vespyr on Mar 10, 2013 23:08:11 GMT -8
Not how i planned to spend my morning, but it'll have to do
The cherry red truck rolled to a stop just outside the cemetery gates. The driver’s side door opened and slammed shut behind Cain. The man stood still for a moment breathing the early morning air. Didn’t smell like much, but at least it didn’t smell like rotting corpses. He was so used to that stench by now that is seemed almost unreal to be standing there looking out across fields of tombstones, no mountains of dead bodies amongst them, without having to hold his breath.
”Well, now what. Did he say somethin’ about a tomb?” the man barked, putting on his sunglasses as he trekked toward the open gates.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 10, 2013 23:36:57 GMT -8
Delilah would slide out of her side of the truck with much more grace and much less abruptly, shutting the door softly and bumping it closed with her hip. No need to announce their presence, though she certainly wasn't going to make Cain start being stealthy. It wasn't exactly his style, near as she could tell.
She would follow him through the gate, stepping softly, one hand casually resting on the hilt of her bowie knife. The smell of grave dirt filled her nostrils. Not fresh either, but stale. As though no one had been there in a long time.
A memory suddenly swept across her vision, and for a moment, she was a child again, standing at the entrance to these gates as she looked on through a black mesh veil, trailing behind her father's coffin. Or perhaps it was her step-father's?
She shook the memory out of her head and gave her arms a quick, reassuring rub. "The rich families buried their dead here. Their plots are in the center, big gaudy things. Probably some tombs there." her voice was soft, pensive compared to his. Listening, seeking signs of movement with quick darts of her ice-chips for eyes.
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 11, 2013 0:05:03 GMT -8
A few steps ahead of her, Cain stopped walking and bounced on his heel once before turning around and walking directly back through the gate. He reached over into the bed of the truck and pulled out a crowbar. With this he returned as well as a deviously determined look in his red eyes. As he caught up to Delilah he'd turn his head to her and throw her a sarcastically manic grin, as he slapped the crowbar firmly into the palm of his hand. He stuck his tongue out. And he took off running ahead of her, bounding and almost skipping all the way to the center of the graveyard.
Cain slowed to a stop at the stone steps of a mausoleum and stood for a moment staring up at the gothic--yes, gaudy--architecture. For a moment he remembered his mother, and the grave he had dug for her in he backyard that night after the bombings, and how he'd been too drunk to pull himself out of the muddy pit when he was finished, and the next morning when he and Gunner had buried her charred skeleton wrapped in the sheets from her bed. For some reason as he looked at the name engraved in fancy lettering across the stone awning of the tomb, Cain felt mad.
He stepped up to the intricate garden-gate door and pulled on the handles out of habit. Of course the door was locked, but that's what the crowbar was for. Cain stooped a little to jam the flat end of the metal rod into the narrow crack between the doors at about knee level, and then took a step back. He lifted his right foot and stomp-kicked at the protruding end of the crowbar as hard as he could to bust the doors apart. The door closest to him swung violently open and almost knocked him over, but he hopped backward on his standing leg to avoid it. Still creaking a little, the two busted doors swung in opposite directions on their hinges and then came to a defeated stand-still.
"Cheap shit," he chuckled.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 11, 2013 0:35:05 GMT -8
Delilah paused in her steps as Cain ran back the way they came and to the truck, raising her eyebrow at him...until she saw what he pulled out of the truck's bed. She would return his crazed grin with a raised eyebrow that would seem to say Really?[/i]. Honestly, these destructive tendencies... He stuck his tongue out at her and he tore off for the centre of the graveyard. Delilah winced at the SOUNDS his feet made as they hit the ground, which were too loud by far. With a sigh for the loss of some semblance of professional integrity, she took off after him at a light, completely silent jog, eyes swiveling to and fro to keep herself aware of her surroundings, which CAIN seemed COMPLETELY content to ignore. It didn't take too long to reach the center of the graveyard, but it was a ways in; the area was large and filled with ever more lavish statues and monuments the further in they went. ...And, as expected, there was Cain, breaking into a fucking mausoleum in one of the grandest structures of the graveyard. Delilah watched him with an almost incredulous expression as Cain forced his way in. As he turned back to face her, she shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure that's what he meant by a cracked tomb." she chortled, smiling. Reaching up to her ear, Delilah would once again lift the tacky little noose earring from her lobe, walking up the steps to hand it to him. "You might need this, til we're outta there."[/size]
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 11, 2013 1:04:24 GMT -8
Cain looked down at the earring. He looked down at the earring. The earring. She was handing him an earring? Then he remembered when she'd hooked it in his ear last night and it clicked, but the man just laughed.
"No thanks, I'm pretty used to the dark." he chuckled.
That might have been the only true thing he'd said to her all day.~
Cain stooped to pick up the crowbar and met her gaze once more before turning toward the dark doorway. He stood still for a moment as a draft of cold, dank air wafted forth from inside, a subtle mingling of earth and death that would instinctively raise the hackles of any human. Cain was no exception, and although he was far from afraid, his senses heightened as he made the choice to step into the mysterious shadows.
It wasn't too hard to see with the early daylight trickling in from the eastward-facing doorway and small stained glass windows lining the interior of the crypt let in just enough of the eerie colored light to faintly illuminate the entire room. The year of neglect would still be apparent though, as accumulations of cobwebs and dust gummed up the little window-holes, deepening the shadows just enough so that Cain's eyes still had to adjust before he could easily see everything. After a few moments, he found himself gazing at the numerous alcoves where the individual coffins slid in, dusty placards bearing the names of the deceased lining the walls.
In the center of the room was an ornate pedestal holding a candelabra with a few candles missing and the rest nearly burnt down to the end of their wicks. Cain approached this and reached into his pocket to withdraw his lighter and took a few moments to light the remaining nubs of the old candles. Soon a warm, flickering glow ebbed from the center of the room where he stood. The dim light glinted weakly off the dust-covered placards as the shadows retreated to the very corners of the crypt. Cain flipped his lighter shut and pocketed it again. He turned to look back at Delilah and lifted one eyebrow at her, sarcastically suggestive.
"Romantic, ain't it?"
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 11, 2013 1:43:14 GMT -8
She shrugged, replacing the earring in it's lobe. His loss~. Apart from an appalling fashion choice, anyway.
She followed him inside, inhaling the musty odour of decay and mildew drifted out on a cold breeze.
Again, reminded of her father's internment. Not in this mausoleum, but one very like it. Smaller, less grand. But in her eyes, anything shy of an earth embedded headstone was too much, and even that was stretching it. Ever the minimalist.
She looked around the room, her eyes adjusting automatically. Despite her best efforts, her footfalls echoed slightly in the chamber. She closed her eyes, feeling for signs of life in this dead, dead place. Apart from Cain. His vitality was so infectious, she wouldn't be surprised if it brought the dead back to life.
Delilah opened her eyes and blinked in worried disgust at the thought. Oh, God, where was a piece of wood to knock on when you needed one?
She looked around as the room was light with dull fire from the center of the room, raising an eyebrow at Cain, sauntering over to him. Eyes still moving from side to side, though focusing on him much more frequently.
"Romantic, ain't it?"
She snorted a laugh, coming to stand in front of him. "Oh, yes, very romantic. Kill some bad guys, take a roll in the hay all covered in blood, rough eachother up a little, sightseeing in a graveyard at the dawn...maybe next week we can plan a trip to R'leyh?"
Ah, Lovecraft. There was always a time for Lovecraft.
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 11, 2013 2:02:09 GMT -8
The eloquent Lovecraftian ruse would slip right over Cain's head, as he was never much of a reader. He just looked at her with the same half-amused smirk, eternally suggestive, though the joke that he evidently didn't get wasn't really what was on his mind when she spoke. Cain leaned back against the pedestal and let his hands hang idle for a moment.
"Bad guys?" he grinned, brow perked with an evilly questioning look. He lifted a hand casually, prompting her to step closer, and that hand would rest on her hip if she did. He tilted his head a little and gazed down at her with a corrupt smile.
"Hon, we were the bad guys. Provoked 'em and slaughtered 'em, they were only followin' instincts."
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 11, 2013 2:16:48 GMT -8
Internally, she bristled at the reminder, hating herself privately. Externally, however Delilah would scoff and flip a hand dismissively at him, even as she did step closer to him. He just wanted a reaction out of her, one where he could see his darkness gnaw on the edges of her soul.
Oh, if only he knew how stained she was already.
Delilah leaned into him slightly, smiling at the hand on her hip. "Potato, potatoe. They made their choices, we made ours. Good and bad is all about perspective. My life was in danger --admittedly, as was the design-- and I kept myself alive. I do have a little boy to head home to at the end of the day, you know."
And right now, as best as she could assure herself, she was safe with her Tengu. They had known why she left the 'Nest as abruptly as she had, and Oliver was growing to like her team. Though it pained her, and filled her with guilt, she knew he was safe...probably safer than he would be with her at this point, if the recent events regarding her superiors were any indication.
"The ends might not justify the means, but I could rationalize it anyway to ease my conscience, if I felt so inclined as to give a shit."
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 11, 2013 3:56:09 GMT -8
That dismissive look. Those defensive words. As she spoke, the corners of Cain's lips only crept into a wider grin. When she'd finished, he reached up to her face with his other hand and ran his index finger along her cheekbone, and pinched her soft cheek a moment later as if to say how cute.~
"If you weren't inclined to give a shit, you wouldn't be inclined to justify yourself either, doll." Cain chuckled, darkly, and let go of her cheek. |
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 11, 2013 14:59:45 GMT -8
Delilah's eyes narrowed as Cain pinched her cheek, snapping her teeth at his fingers. She leaned closer, bracing her hands on either side of him against the pedestal, face inching upwards to his. Defiant.
"Yeah, I have a conscience. It keeps the wrong sort like me in line. But I can also decide not to care, if the circumstances tell me to be. I'm a product of my environment. Same as you.
"But I don't let that stop me from having fun~." one lid closed and opened in a suggestive wink.
And she knew perfectly well that a conscience was one thing Cain didn't have to worry about. He didn't have that small, disapproving voice in the back of his mind when someone was hurt by him.
And yet, here she stood. Trying to be just that.
Delilah blinked as she realized this. Good Lord, girl, what have you gotten yourself into?
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 12, 2013 1:47:28 GMT -8
”Is that how you raise yer kid?” Cain prompted, without missing a beat. The taunting smile remained, but the look in his devilish red eyes, beneath that lifted brow was almost like… genuine curiosity.
…After all, that’s how his mother had raised him, mostly.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 12, 2013 1:56:11 GMT -8
Delilah's lips unwillingly formed a grim line at these words, a worry line forming in her brow, even as her gaze met his steadily. It pained her, physically, to say it, but-- "As much as I want to protect him from the evil in the world and the things I had to go through myself, the world is not going to let me keep him innocent. He must learn that the world is not kind. He must be free to make his own choices and mistakes. I don't hide him from the truth. He has been exposed to things that, before the bombs, most people never even think of in a lifetime.
"My son is five. He knows how to kill. And he knows what it means to do so."
And she hoped with all her heart that he would never, ever have to do so, as she remembered the first time she had killed as well. The little white haired boy had been her saving grace. A world without him was a world void of colour.
She would never be afraid to admit that she was scared of the inevitable, given what had happened to the Zeroes and the Crows in recent weeks. But, oh, just the thought of losing him scared her down to her very core. It made her want to fight harder, become even stronger. She must not falter.
She must not lose herself to this man.
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 12, 2013 2:10:52 GMT -8
Cain tilted his head a little bit. The smile faded, but only slightly. All the while, his hand on her hip steadily clutched her closer until their bodies almost leaned against each other and their faces remained unavoidably close. Casual, Cain’s other arm lifted up to rest on top of Delilah’s right shoulder at his straightened elbow joint, so his hand would be hanging free a foot or so beyond her head. His fingertips danced lackadaisically in the air as if tapping out the rhythm to some secret tune.
”What it means to kill? I thought you just said you were having fun.”
His voice became a little lower, his tone a little darker, but like the subtle upturning of the corners of his lips a twinge of morbid pleasure ran beneath the words he spoke like poison rolling off the tip of his tongue.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Mar 12, 2013 2:23:36 GMT -8
She gave him a small, half-hearted smile that came with a twitch of her brow as if to say both yes and no.
"It has to do with how I was trained. That the life of another person is as precious and valuable as yours. The first rule of any martial art worth it's salt is 'to do no harm...unless you mean to do harm, and then you do a lot of harm'." A humourless grin slipped over her features and then ebbed. Ah, contradictions and the budo. It was how it was done.
"Essentially, the why. Why you kill. That which, as I was taught, determines the path of the demon and the path of the warrior. Sometimes, the paths intersect. Sometimes...you can let yourself forget to ask 'why'."
As she had done, yesterday. It still did not sit entirely well, for it had been almost unnecessary. But hindsight had no place in the present. Delilah simply had to let it go.
Once again, she found herself drawn into Cain's personal space, noticed that one of her hands now rested casually against his upper thigh. Her teeth sunk into her lip briefly as she looked into his eyes.
Damn him. Damn her.
"And yourself? You obviously don't seem to mind a bit of fun either. I'm going to assume killing was easier for you than it was for others?"
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Post by Vespyr on Mar 12, 2013 2:53:50 GMT -8
Violence didn’t just come more easily; it came almost too naturally. Oh, Cain had hurt a lot of people before he’d ever actually killed a man. It was supposed to be different—you go far, but not that far—unless it wasn’t your fault. Some people would have been inclined to say they had no choice. ‘It was him or me.’ Self defense. It was only instinct: he had something Cain needed to survive. The stakes were high. The times had changed.
But it wasn’t like that at all. Cain and Gunner didn’t have to steal that man’s car in the first place. Cain didn’t have to drag him kicking and screaming from the door of the vehicle and tease the poor frightened fellow while he pinned him to the ground. He could have thrown the knife out of both their reach and got into the van and driven off, leaving the man stranded. He could have done anything else, but instead, Cain stabbed the man with his own knife and left him to die there in the street.
His first instinct had been alarm, but only because everything had happened so quickly. Everything after that was only an absence of feeling; the gaping cavity where remorse might have flooded in, but didn’t.
A subtle lift of his chin would be the answer to her question, before he dropped it again to tilt his forehead toward hers, grinning almost proudly.
”And I don’t need any reasons,” he assured, almost seriously. After all, it was his only thing he really believed in: no regrets, and most of all, no excuses.
”When you find yer good at something, ya start enjoyin’ it.”
And that applied to more than just killing…
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