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Post by Vespyr on Aug 23, 2013 0:40:22 GMT -8
A haggard man with horns growing from his forehead wandered, discouraged, through the Crow sector of Long Beach until someone finally had the nerve to tell him where he could find Delilah Black. He found his way to the Crow's Nest eventually, where he was told that Delilah was not in, but was at the beach training. Cain turned his stern eyes to the sea, shrugged, and started walking.
It wasn't yet noon. Cain walked in the shade when he had the chance to, finding that the brightness of the early August morning aggravated his eyes even with his dark shades on. Squinting was a pain, even blinking was just kind of a chore now. His eyes felt... dry. They looked that way, like something had sucked the essence out of them, the red hues barely keeping up their usual smolder. Something had gone cold.
The longer he walked, the more patient he became. Cain was in no hurry to find her, and at several points before he did he considered for fleeting moments that it might have been better if he couldn't find her. The more he missed her, the harder it would be to have to say goodbye.
She probably would have noticed him before he noticed her; after awhile he began to walk down the path adjacent to the beach with his head down and his eyes to the ground, hardly looking anymore. From afar his silhouette would be a familiar sight, wearing a tank top with a slightly baggy gray hoodie jacket over it. But his hands were in the pockets, bunched together, his entire stature withdrawn into himself. |
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 23, 2013 1:07:51 GMT -8
Sweltering heat rolled over pale, slightly burnt skin as Delilah's body moved mechanically through motions she was not entirely aware of. Uncertainty gnawed at her heart and anxiety dogged every thought with self-doubt, a normally unusual trait in the mechanic. The onset of new abilities and responsibilities, all of which bore substantial risks, had put a new edge on the already finely honed blade of the raven haired woman's psyche.
The problem with sharpening a knife to the razors point repeatedly, however, was that the metal became thinner and less reliable. She put on a brave face, but she was struggling to hide the chinks in her armor now.
The blade in her sweaty palm was calmly flipped over the back of her hand and into a reverse grip, where she slipped to the outside of her invisible opponent and drove down the double edged tip straight down into the space just behind the collarbone on his left side, to sever the aorta. She pivoted on her heel and pulled her arm back close to her chest, scanning the area for anymore 'enemies'--
--and was surprised to see, in the distance, a silhouette walking towards her. Male. Tall, slender, but toned in musculature, crazy hair. For a moment, she thought it was one of her Tengu...and realized that mixed in with the unstyled Mohawk were two protrusions on either side of his forehead that sent a shock through her body that gave her chills in spite of the heat. If he hadn't been hunched over, she would have recognized his gait and swagger almost immediately.
"Cain."
She shoved her knife back in its holster and started towards him, pace quickening. He might notice, if he was paying attention at all, that she looked...different in her sweat dampened, threadbare tanktop and cutoff jeans. More scars, one that cut across the bridge of her nose and became a forked tongue under her left eye. Hair a little longer now. Was she thinner?
As she approached, blue eyes sought his red orbs, slowing down until she was in front of him, with a slight smile that nearly faltered from her face. There was such a heaviness around him that it almost made her want to back away, due to it's intensity, but she held her ground.
She opened her mouth to say something, probably something inane...and decided against it. She had known he would return, though it had been the better part of a year since she had last laid eyes on him. Instead, if he didn't do something first to prevent the following silence, she would wait calmly for him to speak.
Something was wrong, and this was a something she couldn't fix.
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 23, 2013 7:20:00 GMT -8
Cain glanced up at the sound of foot steps. There she was. He kept walking without even a stutter in his pace, but when she was near enough he gave the smallest of smiles, albeit an unconvincing one. There was no doubt it felt good to see her after so long, but the smile withered almost immediately as he was reminded that he had left her behind, too. And he was going to have to do it again.
He didn't say a word, but withdrew his hands from his pockets and opened his arms to welcome her into a hug. If she accepted, Cain's warm breath would empty out over her shoulder in an exhausted sigh as he enclosed his arms around her. He hadn't slept in days. He didn't know the next time he would. Right now all he wanted was to hold onto her, leaning his dead weight against her a little bit without noticing. After a long moment he'd take a deep breath, almost shaky, and finally say something.
"I'm sorry I left you," he rasped. His voice was quiet, his throat quite raw still, and he was reluctant to speak more than he had to.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 23, 2013 14:39:29 GMT -8
She watched the ghost of the usual roguish smile flicker mirthlessly over his face, telling her he was not feeling himself. Immediately, she felt a pang of concern for what that might imply, for himself, for others--
Then his hands slipped out of his pockets and spread away from his body, Delilah hesitated. Concern turned into alarm; Never in the relatively short time she had known him had she received any amount of what one might term as 'affection'. Kisses 'just because', hand holding, hugs, had never been present during their interactions. This was beyond weird.
After the surprise had registered, she moved in to his hug, sliding her arms up from around his waist and pressing against his shoulder blades, pulling him into her as she buried the lower half of her face against his neck. She remembered his letters, what they said and what they didn't say.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep, accepting his slackening body as he hugged her. God he was warm. It was almost as if the August heat generated from him."I'm sorry I left you," Blue eyes opened again as surprise rattled her again. She held him a little tighter, and chuckled disbelievingly in his ear. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he did a one-eighty on her and left her reeling. Was she dreaming? Was this Cain? He'd never apologized before, not for...hurting her, not for his wanton murder and debauchery, not for anything. She didn't even think 'sorry' was in his vocabulary.
But she believed him. She could feel despair emanating from him like his smouldering body temperature. She gave him one last squeeze and pulled away slightly to get a look at him, concern leeching into her features even as she tried to smile reassuringly. "You're here now. Even if you leave in ten minutes, now is what matters."
And at least I'll get a heads up this time.
"C'mon. Let's get you out of the sun. We can talk once you've rested a bit, yeah?"
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 23, 2013 15:27:59 GMT -8
After she pulled away Cain's eyes closed, already seeking the shelter of darkness behind his sunglasses. He found himself wordlessly but desperately agreeing with her. The sun was too much, it was splitting everything apart like a migraine and he couldn't focus. The peace of a quiet, dark room would give him the clarity he needed to say what he had come to say.
Cain stuffed his hands back into the pockets of the gray hoodie as he dragged his feet along the path away from the beach in silence. He breathed slowly, and every breath brought the scent of Delilah with it. It was lovely; it felt terrible.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 23, 2013 16:07:40 GMT -8
Not even a half-assed attempt at refusing her help? If she wasn't sure before, she was now sure something was terribly wrong. But what would shake him that hard to produce such and effect on him?
She would turn and start walking him up the beach in the direction he had already been heading in. It would be a ways off, but the privacy would be worth the twenty minute trek in silence to the extremely rundown wooden fisherman's shack above the tide line. Approaching it, Delilah would move ahead of Cain a few paces and push the unlocked door open with her foot, hand on her knife. The door grated open on rusty hinges, revealing the empty innards of the small shack that reeked of the sea, long since ransacked by scavengers looking for rope. In one corner, beside the door, was a folded up blue tarp that appeared somewhat lumpy. She beckoned for him to sit against the far wall where the sunlight didn't leech through the holes in the tin roof. Then she would move back to the tarp and root around in it's folds for a moment before producing two water bottles. She brought them over to where Cain would be sitting and sat beside him without ceremony, putting the lukewarm water bottle in his hand.
She would stare at him for several long moments, as though trying to discern what was wrong to spare him the pain of having to say it. Eventually, she reached up with both hands and gently, slowly, slipped the sunglasses off of his face, attempting to connect cool blue eyes with his smouldering red stare. Fingers trailed gently across his face as she pulled her hands down and away, folding the arms and setting the sunglasses down beside him.
"What happened?"
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 23, 2013 16:21:50 GMT -8
An unnaturally compliant Cain followed her into the shack and sat down. With his hands still in his pockets, he just let himself sink into a position against the old wood where he didn't have to exert any energy at all, his head tilted back to the wall, shoulders dropped with deep disappointment. Something about the way she carefully pulled the sunglasses from his face brought the stinging to his eyes again so he kept them closed. If he looked at her now, he might have broken down completely.
At her inevitable question, he took a deep breath, the kind that felt like it was going to come right back up again. He swallowed until it would stay put and decided there was no point in evading the truth.
"Gunner-- killed himself because of me," he croaked. His eyes were still closed, but he had to take another breath and he had trouble keeping it down. There was a knot in his throat, choking. It was the worst feeling in the world.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 23, 2013 16:48:05 GMT -8
"Gunner-- killed himself because of me," Blue eyes widened and her own breath caught in her throat. His...brother? Yes, his brother. Why was he dead? Didn't he leave with Cain and the white-haired twins and Ari to the South West? What did it have to do with Cain why he killed himself?
She forced her endless curiosity back and reached up again to Cain's neck and shoulders. She didn't want to be patronizing; telling him how sorry she was for his loss (even if it was true), would be empty words. His guilt pushed the thought from her mind. For a moment, even 'I told you so' popped into her head and was immediately quashed. Instead of speaking, her arms would rather insistently pull him towards her again as she rose up on her knees to embrace him against her chest.
If he pushed her away, she would back off. If he seized her around the middle and cried his heart out into her shirt, she would let him. If he kicked and swore and punched, she would let him. But the best thing she could do for Cain right now was be there for him.
There was no fixing this. |
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 23, 2013 21:28:07 GMT -8
With nothing else to hide from this girl, Cain leaned forward, pulled her closer, and let himself melt. At that moment there was no other place in the world where he could bury his guilt, than the softness of her maternal embrace. Immediately she would feel the warmth of tears staining her chest, and hear the hoarse choke in his throat that gave away the fact that he had already cried about this for a good long time. But it wasn't enough. Cain's fingers clutched at her sides desperately, and then lividly, as he tried harder to cry but only found it more difficult to do so. Dehydrated and exhausted, there was only so far his body could take the grieving. He coughed several times and took a stuttering breath and hated himself.
"I have to leave--" he rasped, "--I can n-never come back here. I'm sorry. I fucked everything up, please forgive me."
He didn't know who he was asking forgiveness from anymore. From her? Gunner? Himself? All he knew was that it was an unforgivable mess and it was his fault.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 23, 2013 23:13:52 GMT -8
As he struggled with his words between anguished sobs, Delilah made soft shushing noises into his hair. Gradually, she leaned backwards, lowering them down so she could lean against a shelf, and him against her. She seemed to not mind the pain of his bony fingers digging into her sides as he clutched at her for comfort, or his tear stains on her shirt. If someone had told her even an hour before that it would be Cain in her arms crying over a devastating loss, she would have laughed until she died.
She wasn't laughing now.
...even in the beginning, when she had set out to help Cain, she hadn't tried to change his nature. Only redirect it. But, she recalled that once, she had told Cain that though he might add a smudge of black to her white canvas, that he could very well wind up with a smear of white himself. He had shrugged it off at the time...
It was bittersweet. Delilah was glad she had been right, that deep down, Cain Perrish was a good man. But she wouldn't wish the catalyst for his conscience had been as dramatic as it was.
And that was what was happening right now. The good man in him had forced it's way to the surface and was appalled at the things he had done. She didn't need to bring it up to him. Delilah had a feeling he already knew.
Once he had calmed down enough (and she would hold him there until he did, no matter how long it took), Delilah bent her head down slightly to the man's ear to speak softly.
"The only person you should be asking for forgiveness from," she nearly whispered. "--is yourself. You're a better man than you think you are, Cain. I KNOW you are. And, for what it's worth, I do forgive you."
Who else was fit to? She had deigned to take responsibility for him. It only seemed right.
Now, though, her heart was filled with a quiet pain. This man had changed, for the better...and now she knew why he had come to see her. Worse, she agreed with the decision. Still, she wasn't about to let go just yet.
She shifted one of her hands from his shoulders and picked up the untouched bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap using her forefinger and thumb, she held it aloft for him to drink from.
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 24, 2013 16:20:14 GMT -8
Cain sipped weakly at the lukewarm water while his devastated red eyes got lost somewhere along the floorboards. Even if what she said was true, it would take awhile to realize it and perhaps a very, very long time before he would feel truly forgiven. It wasn't easy, said or done.
His breathing became somewhat regular again after long moments of silence and drinking, about half the water bottle already disappeared to replace what had been lost to sweat and tears over the last three days. Now that he finally had something to drink Cain's head throbbed as if it fuming over the obvious neglect and reluctant to let him off the hook so easily. He kept drinking until the water bottle was empty and crushed it in his fist after that in a moment of hysteric frustration. There were things he needed to say, badly, but they were the last things he ever wanted to admit.
"Look... Gunner was the only person who shoulda mattered and I let him down. And now you matter to me, a lot. But I gotta let you down too."
Cain wiped the back of his hand across his face to rid the aggravating wetness from his eyes, and ended up hanging his head with his face planted in his hand. The more he spoke, the more he managed to keep a steady tone; the words suddenly seemed to flow freely now that he'd opened up the bottle, and poured.
"I wanted to be around you more, but I can't stay. I gotta stick with the only family I have left, and I gotta try to take better care of... fuckin' Ari, I fucked him up real bad. What I did to that kid was... fuckin' terrible. And you, you're just as important but I can't be in two places, and you got a kid to worry 'bout, and I think the only thing that's gonna work is if I leave you alone from now on."
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 24, 2013 16:59:44 GMT -8
She watched his inner turmoil in silence, one hand moving (a little shakily) into the thick black mane of his outgrown hair and absently teasing out the knots. He was fighting with his own feelings, intense as they were. It was unsurprising, but very tragic; for someone who had never felt empathy before, this was probably extremely frustrating and dismaying.
He pulled away slightly and her body surprised her by following after him, wanting to be as close as possible. She frowned inwardly, but kept it to herself."Look... Gunner was the only person who shoulda mattered and I let him down. And now you matter to me, a lot. But I gotta let you down too." Delilah listened with an attentive, concerned expression as he told her what he had to do, about Ari (Dammit. I thought I recognized that scar on his lip.), about his family (?)...about her.
Touched, unbidden tears sprung into her eyes and she smiled, a little weakly. She leaned her face closer, planting a light kiss on his forehead. Honoured and despairing over how special she had become to him. Wanting to be with her, but not being able to.
"I understand," she said with a soft sigh, leaning back again, still smiling sadly with overbright blue eyes. "And I think...that's for the best. I'm proud of you. The right thing is very rarely the easy thing. It...saying this isn't easy for me, either."
As she spoke, Delilah calmly slipped her hand over his, gripping it lightly.
"You've never let me down, Cain. You do what you have to do. I can't let you go, though, not yet. Not until you've slept, at least."
The slightly challenging raise of her brow might seem familiar to him somehow...
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 24, 2013 17:44:10 GMT -8
Cain stared at her hand and squeezed it back, hard but not as hard as he would have, if he could have. He wanted to thank her for being so cool about everything but he couldn't say anything else; he'd already taken everything he'd never wanted to show anyone and dumped it out for her to see. So he held on to her hand and nodded at the suggestion of sleep, his eyes already refusing to stay open anymore.
He cleared his hoarse throat and asked, "S'there an actual bed around here, maybe a place I could shower first?" He felt kind of, just, straight up... disgusting, really.
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Post by Delilah A. Black on Aug 24, 2013 18:15:34 GMT -8
Delilah nodded, pushing him gently off of her and getting to her feet. If she was still touching his hand, she would attempt to pull him up after her. "Yeah, back at the 'Nest. Probably couldn't hurt to get some food into you either, huh?"
She'd lead him back out into the--if possible-- even hotter day as they picked their way back up the beach towards the Crow's Nest. Occasionally, she tapped her ear, quietly murmuring instructions to the blu-tooth for a minute or two before focusing on the walk, stealing glances at the tall man's face from time to time.
The closer they got, the more people they saw, friends chatting amongst themselves, shop vendors arguing over who would win in a wet-tshirt contest between the invisible woman and Mystique, children darting underfoot as they played a rousing game of 'tag'. By himself, Cain would certainly attract attention with his horns and his sullen, scraggly appearance; the fact that he was walking side by side with the First only added to the scrutiny. Delilah calmly ignored it all, replying politely but briefly when she was addressed and locking eyes with the compulsive starers. The guards at the main doors exchanged a quick look before opening the doors with a swift salute for the Lady Crow and her guest, quietly staring after them in confusion long after they passed.
Cool concrete hallways, lit with fluorescent bulbs would eventually lead them to a room at the end of one of the long, branching hallways inside the facility. Quickly, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, ignoring stared from people marching up and down the hallway that lead to this one. Delilah would hold the door open for him to go inside.
Unlike most of the other rooms in the base, the set up was...almost apartment like. The floor was carpeted with an atrocious colour and the couch pressed up against the wall looked like it was from the 1970's. There was a shoddy shelf hammered into the wall above a small chest on the opposite wall. In the middle of the room sat a poorly slapped together coffee table, one of the legs of which being a dumbell. Straight ahead was a small kitchen, with hot plate, a sink, and even cupboards. Just before the kitchen was a small hallway with three doors, one on the right, one on the left, and one at the end.
"Bathroom's at the end of the hall. The pressure is good, but the tanks don't hold 'hot water' very well, so it might be a bit cold."
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Post by Vespyr on Aug 24, 2013 18:39:33 GMT -8
Cain picked up his sunglasses and slipped them on while keeping his other hand attached to Delilah. As they exited the little shack and stepped back into the boorish sunlight, two, maybe three of Cain's long fingers remained hooked to hers loosely but reluctant to let go. They would stay there for awhile as he walked abreast of her, until it felt appropriate to let them slip away as more and more people took notice of him. The melancholy emotionlessness of his gaunt face never faltered, lifeless as if he had lost the ability to animate his features at all.
They entered her quarters and Cain paused with his hands in his pockets, just long enough for her to mention where the bathroom was, before he tread off in that direction.
"Cold's good," he mumbled in parting, and gave the bathroom door a little shove behind him. The gray jacket was lifted off and carefully folded, left on the counter, while he let the rest of his grimy dirt-stained clothes pile up unceremoniously on the floor. A glance in the mirror would renew a pang of spite and frustration, not only at the horns which defined him, but the sickly state he had let himself sink to. The raw feeling of weakness was more disgusting than the days-old sweat that soaked his back. Still, the shower felt better. Cain spent a long time standing with his back to the nozzle and his eyes closed as the cool water pressed against the back of his neck and slipped down the bare length of his spine.
After ten minutes or so, he was outside the shower again ruffling his outgrown black hair with the towel. When he was good and dry he slipped his boxers on, shrugged on the gray jacket which was relatively clean, grabbed the rest of his clothes in his fist, and tossed the towel to drape over the shower door. He padded back to the end of the hallway and glanced around the room.
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