Post by JR on Oct 4, 2015 1:55:47 GMT -8
Chars: Abaddon Bell ( onereaibadman@aol.com ) & Alice Clare Donvoan ( wreckedships@aol.com )
TW: Blood.
Summary: Leaving the library Friday night, and wholly convinced he's losing his mind, Abaddon figures out a way to get bacl the parts of him that had slipped away with a spell gone possibly wrong, and Alice isn't as convinced that this is the way.
my soul didn't just sing, it rejoiced
TW: Blood.
Summary: Leaving the library Friday night, and wholly convinced he's losing his mind, Abaddon figures out a way to get bacl the parts of him that had slipped away with a spell gone possibly wrong, and Alice isn't as convinced that this is the way.
my soul didn't just sing, it rejoiced
one reaI bad man: Don may have been fine walking back or taking a bus, but in his headspace he didn't want to focus on anything even mundane as walking. Instead they wandered to the edge of the Campus block and called up the Golem. Twenty minutes later they were stored away in the backseat and Abaddon had grown extremely quiet, grin no longer attached to his mouth. A firm line of lips while he perused at a vaguely familiar reflection, partially there in the window. An echo of his features, faintly there and not. She may have let the brook babble, may have grabbed at him, even distracted him with press of tits or snuggle of body. He knew Alice enough to know she wouldn't stop, so it was no wonder that he put her to sleep. Poor thing. She'd wake a little bit later, nearly an hour, and it was to the Gray man leaning over her in the backseat, splashing water on her face. The man didn't have a concerned look, but a look that said he was experiencing extreme discomfort. Face was wincing and he gripped at his kidney, tiny notepad held in front of the girl's face while she stirred from the induced slumber. He was also climbing back out of the backseat of the four door sedan. The note read as only three words. Basement, Yelling, Trouble. And that's where Abaddon was. He had put her to sleep and told the Golem to drive faster. They drove faster. She snored. When they arrived to the black house he told the Golem to wait in the car and then he disappeared into the house. Abaddon had gone to the basement and returned to the 'work area' and ritualistic circle he had used last. The ashes and bits of mirror that he used to capture and return his own essence was perused over and then.. consumed. Handfuls of ash and mirror crushed together in his palm and buried between his lips, till shards of the mirror were stuck in his gum and mouth. Washed down in the chalky black residue of burnt magics. For nearly an hour he continued this (it was a difficult task). At different points he had to lash out at the world in order to push himself further, and it was around the time that Frank awoke Alice that the intensity of it all reached it peak. The black fire burning intensely and flaring up, and the magic worked reverse on the Golem's body. The thing he fueled was now starting to be consumed to feed and repair the man's body as he tried to find the bits of him that were lost, in the magics he casted. Still wearing the same blue-green suit, but it was covered in blood, dirt and ash. The blood that dribbled from lips with tiny shards of chewed on mirror stuck in fingers and mouth. He leaked so much red from drooling lips and hair hung wildly about as he crawled within the magic circle.. making sure not a bit of residue was left. This is why you don't play with magic children. <done>
wrecked ships: Imagine it. Alice Clare, while he brooded over the fact that he'd told her he felt parts of his brain were just missing, she was a bit frantic about it. Peppering him with questions, just as she had when they'd left the library and made the trek across campus to wait on the arrival of the Golem. Continuing on when they were safely in the backseat of the sedan. She didn't like the feeling in the pit of her gut, the one that was all too familiar -- the one she'd had so many times before, but had only acted on twice. And both times had landed in hospital in Scotland. So she just kept asking, kept prodding, kept touching, and trying to get a response out of him. Then she did. Put to sleep, so peaceful and serene and blessedly quiet in the corner of the car. She'd never know how long she was out. It wasn't like Francis could tell her, nor would her pride let her ask once she realized what had happened as the splash of water drops began to work in stirring her out of the magically induced sleep. Alice raised a hand to protect her lovely face from any other drips, frowning up at the Golem who was in silent hysterics. "Franny? What's going on?" The paper he'd scribbled on was snatched from his hand, and blue eyes perused the stubby writing quickly. Basement. Yelling. Trouble. Dread filled her throat while blues flew back to the man, searching his features to see if maybe he was just overreacting. "What the bloody hell is wrong with your side?" But she didn't stick around to find out. Francis? He just wasn't her true concern. Pushing past the man, supple limbs all but crawled her out of the stuffy interior of the sedan, and Alice took off for the house. It was so dark in there, but she could see, making out the path that lead her to the basement, and down the stairs to where it was even darker -- until it was not. Until there he was like a beacon within his circle. "Abaddon," Alice called to him before she really got a good look at him. And when she did, just steps away from the ring of magic he had long ago cast, she came up short. A gasp flooded out of the water-witch before she might warrant a stop to it, and a ink drawn hand flew up to her open mouth. "What did you do? Oh. Oh, what did you do?" She didn't linger long there in her shocked stare, but darted forward again. He'd made it clear just a few nights before that she was welcome within any magic he cast, and she barreled herself into the circle -- ready to push and shove and fight to get inside if she had to, and she'd do it snarling. Confident she'd be let in, Alice dropped to her knees, still in motion and skidding a few inches to where he was; fearlessly shoving her hands into his shoulders to try and stop the way he crawled like an animal pacing a cage. "Abaddon! Don. Don, let me see. All this glass, where did it come from?" A frantic turn of her head, this way and that, as one hand came to find his jaw through the mess of blood and mirrored bits still sparkling with ancient magic in his beard -- if he let her. There were barely any traces of it left where he'd started to crush and break the mirror up. Any regular ol' human might have seen nothing at all. But Alice? There was nothing regular, and barely anything human no longer, about her. She could see it, the shards of the aura of his magic littering the floor within the circle, and all at once she knew what he'd done. Pain sliced in her chest at just the thought of it, and blues flew back to his face. "Don't swallow any more, do you hear me? Spit it out!" You'd best believe, as she mom scolded him, her other hand left his shoulder and hovered below his bloody mouth to catch anything he might have obeyed her on getting rid of. -d-
one reaI bad man: Honestly. Had he of been of sounder mind when he put her to sleep, he would've locked the spell down to make it last longer. The fact was he hadn't been in the right state of mind, and still wasn't. Mirror in his stomach felt like razor blades, but the magic in him was actually working to break it down... Still. It hurt. He could feel the stomach lacerating itself on what he consumed. Trembling fingers rose to a mouth that nearly foamed as blood and spit dribbled out, stained his beard. The magic of the circle was almost gone already, it was the spell he cast the night prior, and there was little resistance against her if any. Maybe she'd feel a tickle of something, like beads hanging from a doorway, but nothing and he was grumbling. Arm stuck out to push her back a step, but it wasn't placed on the right part of her body.. and he hadn't really much strength to use. So much of his energy occupied in dissolving the mirror that he had managed to eat. Bits of it stuck in his gums, tongue, lips, corners of his mouth. "Shh, shh.. It's okay.. it's almost done... I feel.. bee..." He tilted his head aside gagged and retched, repulsive as the black magic twisted and wrenched at his gut. Bits of mirror stuck that stuck in his fingers and continued to bleed readily were sent deeper into his body when he slammed it down on the ground. Bile and blood spilled from lips, making sure it wasn't poured into the hand she put in front of him. "There's... still.. a few left.. I can see it.. I don't.. know why I didn't see it before.. I should have saw it before..." He mumbled and sweated and his skin boiled... there was really one shard of any significance left and it was in the charred log at the center and buried in ash. She probably could have stopped him if she chose to, but he was still going to try reaching for it. <done>
wrecked ships: The small amount of force he put behind the arm that smacked out blindly at her thighs was all but ignored in favor for helping, or at least trying to do such, rather than letting him suffer. They were a team, right? If he suffered, she suffered. "No, baby, no .. you shh, don't talk. You'll only hurt yourself more." She didn't notice when the wet on her face came from tears rather than what had been splashed by Frank, and therefore they were left to spill freely down the high cut of her cheekbones. Alice shifted, when he turned his head; sliding more to his side rather than in front of him, giving him room to vomit what never should have been inside him in the first place. One arm slid 'round his back, clutching at his side to help keep him up and out of the glass that came pouring from his mouth along with foaming stomach acids and so .. so much blood. Clammy hand, caring not one damn bit that his beard was stuck with glass, smoothed it out of the way, wiped the blood away until her own mingled with it; but she hardly felt the too small shards as they sliced at her fingers. "No!," burst from her lips as he claimed to see more, "You'll not! It's enough, Abaddon! It's enough!" He was weak in these moments, far weaker than she, and she pushed him to the side with the brunt force of her hip hitting his to knock him away from the direction he was going for. She could see what he saw, and it was Alice who took it first -- slapping the flat of her palm against it, sending ash billowing up to dissipate into the air. A murmur of words, all it took was two, and the glass reflection became water, water that immediately seeped into the dirt floor. "It's gone, I got rid of it. It's gone," she rounded back, scooting her denim covered knees and shins through the earthy flooring, until she was up against him again -- once more trying to run fingers across his mouth, trying to so very gently wipe away the blood and the glass, so she could see the damages. See what he'd done to himself. -d-
one reaI bad man: "No, no, no, no, no, no.... " There was more if him in there he was certain, but before fingers could find it it was nothing. Nothing. He landed face first into the ash as body lurched itself onto the area where bonefire had been lit, and nose nudged the rank stench of wet ash. It smeared against the bronzed skin, and in a violent thrust of his arm the logs exploded. He lurched a limb violently, clearing out the ash and making a cloud of it in the air. Again his black fire seethed while a culmination of ire and anguish swept and he ran lips into the dirt. He could taste wet ash mixed with the blood, and it was actually a little pleasant against the harshness of wounded and cut up mouth. Fingers scooped into glass that was now water and shoveled it into his lips, while he barely recognized that she was in her own turmoil with tears on cheek. If he had, he may have settled down a little more, but right now he was too concerned with losing bits of himself. It was too late though. Whatever was in that last shard was going to be gone. That was it.. he would have to handle that. He groaned a little and pressed his forehead against the dirt. He sat that way for only a few seconds before rocking back onto his heels and letting arms hang at his sides. By the way, he realized that he wasn't wearing that suit-coat anymore because he put it on her, so instead he was in that undershirt of white. Sleeves rolled up and it was stained in so much blood. Both from being cut up and knicked with mishandled glass, and because it had dribbled so freely from mouth and beard. He let his chin slump against his chest and eyes stare at the wet-ash, and the ground. Chest heaving with each sharply taken breath, blood still trickling from cut lips. The tips of his fingers curled into palms and elbows came to press onto his knees. He shook his head a little without saying anything and lids blinked while he adjusted, and tried to concentrate on what was left inside of him.. and not so much what was lost. Finally, though, after what passed like an hour, but was barely a minute.. he mumbled aloud. "... I'm better... now.. I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you." Bloodied grin, red seeping between the teeth in moving lines of red. He winced a little and reached into his lip, small chunk of that sharp-edged mirror pulled from the inside of lip and dropped to the dirt. <done>
wrecked ships: .. She was wearing his jacket, wasn't she? Hands probably swamped in the bulk of the sleeves. We can work around that, and how they fell down to her wrists while she dabbed at his mouth and clutched him. There were rules about approaching, touching, coming in any sort of contact with a wounded animal, but Alice Clare ignored them all. This was her animal, her dragon, her wolf. Hurt. For a moment she just watched; bringing blood stained hands up to press against the tightness in her chest; smearing the darkness of it against the white of her tee. Watched him belly flop into the ashes, against that remaining log, and into the water that would make the ash muddy and stick. Watched him mourn what she had done, but she'd only known he couldn't eat any more of that fucking glass. When he lay still in the dirt for those few moments, Alice inched forward on her knees, reaching him just as he rose up. There was still no fear as to what he might do to her if she kept pushing, just what he was doing to himself, and trembling hands rose once more now that he sat so still. Delicately, they pawed at him; plucking glass from his beard, thumbing away the splash of blood his frantic motions had splattered across his cheeks, his nose. Even across his forehead. He was a bloody mess. Literally. "I'm not scared," her voice shook within the rasp of her throat, and tear-spilling eyes lifted from her task at his beard and up. Catching the grin he painted red across his mouth, but continuing up to meet the brightness of his greens. Too bright, with the turmoil and emotions that had come, that had drawn him into the frenzy that had brought him to the conclusion he had to eat his troubles away. Those eyes dropped watching him pull out the glass, and she mouthed those same two words. It was a drip when it hit the ash on the floor. She'd do it to every piece he pulled out of himself if she had to. She'd do it to every glass in this black house if it came down to it, until they were standing in the puddles of it. "This is not the way," dark brows knit, and she lifted her stare back up to him; the knuckles of her hand brushing velvet soft along his cheek. "We will find what's missing, but my love, this is not the way." It couldn't be. -d-
one reaI bad man: It was the way. It was the quickest way. It made sense. And he could even feel it working. Sometimes magic required sacrifice and self-mutilation. In some instances it was the soul, in others the body. He could feel the bits of glass transform to water, and wounds that were left empty now flowed more readily. Although, that may have been the water's doing too. He trembled less, but it still felt weakened and stretched thin. Even while his energy bristled and fumed so strong, and Francis laid dead outside. Organ failure. He'd bring him back later. No worries. The golem had a strong anchor for his soul, and with his new connection with the local coroner, replacing body parts should be a lot easier. Awkwardly his body shifted, ass moving beyond his heels while legs also bent in a bizarre manner, almost as though he were possessed. It looked impossible the way he shifted, but he did and ass was on the ground and arms were drawing her into his lap. "It's okay. It's fine now. It's fine." He was saying it moreso to soothe her tears and also to allow her to know he wasn't going to be devouring any more pieces of that mirror. He couldn't. It was gone. Maybe there was another way to recover what was lost, but it really didnt' matter. Either it would or it wouldn't. He stained his own suit with how much he bled on it once she was drawn into his embrace. Face lowering into the softness of her golden crown while he bled into it while he mumbled into her hair. "... I don't think the spell is ready for you yet though... I'll have to make some adjustments, first." Yes. That was the truth. Something went severely awry, and it was hidden from him what had happened. Or at least, at first it was hidden to him.. Became all too obvious once her madness filled the gaps and it left him feeling hollow in places. But already he could feel some of those lost bits returned as magic mirror was digested and made part of the body it tore up inside. He could actually feel it still cutting him up inside, and knew he'd have to spit up more blood. And he did that. Coughed a little, tilted his head over her shoulder and put a mouthful of the thick substance into the dirt. <done>
wrecked ships: Yikes. Poor Franny. Dead, and alone. Because Alice Clare cared so little about him, in favor of the dark wizard. The same was true for anyone, really. They paled in comparison to him. No matter how dark it was. Making herself light as a feather so the way he pulled her into his lap wasn't going to be a difficult thing to do, Alice settled into a straddle over his thighs and wound her arms about his neck. He buried in, and she did the same. There into the side of his neck, where it became his shoulder. "It's not okay, it's not fine," she murmured back, words spilling just as generously as the blood that came from his mouth. "You're hurt. There's so much blood. You need it back. Take mine. Can you take mine? Take it all." A lift of her head to allow wild eyes to search his. "Will that help?" He was talking about the spell he wanted to cast for her, to help disguise who she'd was destined to be from who she was presenting herself as to the council -- but all that talk just spurred other thoughts into her brain. "That's it. We can do a spell. One to mend the damage you've done -- to find the missing bits of you. Just take mine, all of it. I don't need it. There's a spell, I know it. I've seen it. A transfer. I don't need it. You do." Alice shifted, pressing herself close to him, a little down -- not getting in the way when he needed to rid himself of the blood that filled his mouth. Turning her face into his damp hair, Alice nuzzled in; closing her eyes against the darkness it provided. "I'll give you all." The softness of her hand swept down the sweat-stick of his shirt along his spine. She could feel the tension as it still rode in his muscles. Feel the electric buzz that she knew so well, that came with a mind was drawn so taut it had nothing left to do but break. That took a toll on a body. The embrace around him flexed, just enough to tighten without hurting him further, since he was still so full of the glass she couldn't see to liquefy. -d-
one reaI bad man: The wizard's skin should have been cooler and clammy, because it certainly had paled some, but it was hot and slick with sweat. The magic gone rotten left him with a fever and his bristling energy continued to cook him. She'd feel those arms still writhe around her, thorned vines squeezing her against him before the scratch of his beard nipped at her cheek. He left blood trailed along her cheek, mutilated slivers pressing wet and hot kiss to her mouth that left red stained there. "Yes, I know. You would give me everything. You have already. Thank you." He mumbled. And it was true. He was feeding off of her some, but she'd barely even recognize it. The way his black fire made her water steam and dissolve into him. Feeding and fueling his body, not that he was in any dire need, but it would help him to even out. It was better than laying their in agony and with no energy of his own. ".. mm... I don't know what.. I did wrong. It has been awhile.. maybe..." Mumbling at himself, to himself, to her too. Pieces of his brain separated into different voices that worked together for the good of Abaddon Bell. Parts of him, the parts wary of the water-witch laid the blame of this 'accident' at her feet. He wouldn't have even been doing this if it wasn't for her, right? The voice had little pull in his brain now though, stuffed down in the black of his mind and partially wishing that was one of the reflections lost. Maybe he'd cast it again, with a little more direction this time. She'd feel fingers digging into her hip, face tilting to nudge his nose against hers and press another bloodied kiss to her mouth. "...I got blood in your hair." <done>
wrecked ships: "I haven't done anything." You know. Other than make it impossible for him to eat all his magic. Or climb all over him, probably hurting him more. Selfish, that's all she was. Snuffling little breath hitched into her mouth as he laid his over hers and smeared it with his body's essence. She didn't recognize it, no. The feeling of him pulling at her magic was so .. familiar, it was impossible for her to feel it in such small quantities. She began to kiss at him. His lips, so softly as to not make it a kiss of pain. His cheeks, up along his nose. Over his eyes. "We'll figure out what went wrong. And we'll fix it. And it'll go right next time. We'll do it together. Together, alright? You're not alone anymore." She wasn't naive to think that he'd been alone before her. But she knew it wasn't like this -- and if it had been, there was a long gap in time from that point to this. Alice matched his soul, and he used that match to set them ablaze. Soft lips pressed a little bloody still into his beard near his chin, then rose to meet his mouth when he found it and took her hips in his hands. "It's not the first time .. won't be the last. It'll come out in the wash." Her touch skimmed across his brow, and into sweat-heavy strands to push them back from his face. Careful, so careful, she laid another kiss across his mouth; tongue swiping at the taste of the blood that came from the cuts on his lips. If he didn't wince, or try to pull away .. she lapped at them, as if she might heal them with her tongue along. She lapped at them, dancing that tricksy muscle over the slices that bled, taking the taste of him into her mouth, into her soul. Alice bubbled, like a boiling pot -- his skin was so hot! His magic scorching her waters! It was a heat she could never get enough of, no matter how many times it burned. Long limbs shifted; dropping her bottom more into the wealth of his thighs, and her feet crossed at his ass. Pressed in close, a little sound escaping against his lips. "Not alone anymore." He had to know that. -d-
one reaI bad man: The man with the bloody grin probably trembled moreso than she had ever felt before, but that's what happened when it felt like razorblades were through your body. Still, he ignored the pain, blocked it out and didn't let it show more than the uncontrolled tremors now and again. She probably would feel his gut tighten and body grow tense now and again, but it was like passing breezes. Never knew when they'd come, and it wasn't enough to knock you over, but remind you that there was some bluster out today. He made sounds that were sighs mixed with grunts, mouth readily available to her tasting tongue and pressing lips. ".. never been alone, you've always been with me.. even when you weren't.. I've felt you out there. Waiting." Again mouth dotted hers and lifted to her cheek, lifting little freckles of red to press to her honey skin. He had to let greens sift over her in the dark, in the dirt, in his heat. And he was moved, it made the grin soften and forehead lurch forward, sweat-slick brow nuzzling against her forehead. Her cheeks still stained with tears and his blood. "I love you, Alice." He said it flatly and plainly after fingers had raised up and cupped her ears. He brought her face in closer and let tongue slide out to lick at her lower plush lip, greens soulsearching in those watery blue gems. "... I do... feel much better. I do." He said with truthfulness, wanting to make sure any worry was soothed. He loved her worry, he loved her pain. Loved her suffering for when he suffered. And he was there showing it in the sick twist of crazed grin, smeared in red. <done>
wrecked ships: Romantic. That's all he was. This monster of hers, who mutilated himself over magic and got her to so willingly agree to be part of the next go 'round that could result in the same. That romance spilled from his tongue and onto hers with every lave of the feminine counterpart that sought to soothe. "I waited so long," she sighed softly against his mouth when he pressed it; turning her face a little when he went after her cheek. Tears still sluiced unnoticed, but less frequently. They'd made her nose all red and her neck and the top of her chest all splotchy from the heightened emotion that had spilled over out of pure and honest fear that what he'd done to himself could not be fixed. Soft hands found either side of his neck; smoothed thumbs along his beard and skin alike along his cheeks and she nuzzled her nose to his while he rested his brow to hers. A soft wing of her mouth into a the sort of smile that mostly just dimpled her left cheek. "I know," she Han Solo'd at him in a dreamy coo that came so much closer with the way he pulled her mouth to his by way of her ears. "I love you," she murmured there, and her hands dropped and began to pry open the buttons of his shirt. It wasn't hurried, nor slow, and she had no other intentions but to get the bloody sweaty thing off of him. They needed a bath. And his hand probably needed looking at too. Could he even feel the way he'd slammed it down onto the glass poking into it, or had he gone numb to anything but the pain that was so great that it wracked through his body in intervals and made Alice want to shove her fingers into his throat and make sure he puked up everything, every shard that remained. Pulling her shoulders back, gifting herself with the luxury of looking him over with his declaration that he was feeling better, Alice squinted at him. "All of you, even the parts you felt slipping away, are mine, y'know." She could see the truth brimming there in his eyes. It came with his pallor returning bit by bit, and the way there wasn't as much tension making him rigid. "So, I'll have you all the way better. Tell me how to do this. Any way, any how." -d-
one reaI bad man: The slam of his palm was probably the worse of the wounds. The skin was torn open on both sides of hand and didn't appear to be slowing down its bleed anytime soon. There were easily two dozen or so individual knicks and cuts upon him, some no longer bleeding and small, others still leaking. The mouth on the other hand was probably around seven or so scratches that were visible, and who knew how many more in his mouth that still leaked. He swallowed it most of the time, but even a man that ate whole people found himself growing nauseated when too much went in. She worked at buttons and he was too busy dropping kisses so softly on her cheek and chin to help her. In fact he was probably more of a hindrance, but in the order of what was more important.. his mouth tasting her was higher than her fingers undressing him. ".... mine.. I am mine.. and yours.. and ours... " He let nostrils flare and he stole her scent right from her cheek, and face heaved forward to let his mouth trace the line of an eyebrow. The gap above her nose was left bloodied when lips smoothed down and he felt her fingers parting shirt. He did offer aid then, rolling physique away in a lean and shoulders bobbling until left arm could slide out. And the his right. Ruined garment allowed to fall to the ground and show off the colorful mural of his torso. The colors were more vibrant on skin that was left glossy and paler than normal, flecks of red that bled through making the thorns look even more dangerous on his arms. "...Do.. what.. what do you want to do... love me...."
wrecked ships: Imagine it. Alice Clare, while he brooded over the fact that he'd told her he felt parts of his brain were just missing, she was a bit frantic about it. Peppering him with questions, just as she had when they'd left the library and made the trek across campus to wait on the arrival of the Golem. Continuing on when they were safely in the backseat of the sedan. She didn't like the feeling in the pit of her gut, the one that was all too familiar -- the one she'd had so many times before, but had only acted on twice. And both times had landed in hospital in Scotland. So she just kept asking, kept prodding, kept touching, and trying to get a response out of him. Then she did. Put to sleep, so peaceful and serene and blessedly quiet in the corner of the car. She'd never know how long she was out. It wasn't like Francis could tell her, nor would her pride let her ask once she realized what had happened as the splash of water drops began to work in stirring her out of the magically induced sleep. Alice raised a hand to protect her lovely face from any other drips, frowning up at the Golem who was in silent hysterics. "Franny? What's going on?" The paper he'd scribbled on was snatched from his hand, and blue eyes perused the stubby writing quickly. Basement. Yelling. Trouble. Dread filled her throat while blues flew back to the man, searching his features to see if maybe he was just overreacting. "What the bloody hell is wrong with your side?" But she didn't stick around to find out. Francis? He just wasn't her true concern. Pushing past the man, supple limbs all but crawled her out of the stuffy interior of the sedan, and Alice took off for the house. It was so dark in there, but she could see, making out the path that lead her to the basement, and down the stairs to where it was even darker -- until it was not. Until there he was like a beacon within his circle. "Abaddon," Alice called to him before she really got a good look at him. And when she did, just steps away from the ring of magic he had long ago cast, she came up short. A gasp flooded out of the water-witch before she might warrant a stop to it, and a ink drawn hand flew up to her open mouth. "What did you do? Oh. Oh, what did you do?" She didn't linger long there in her shocked stare, but darted forward again. He'd made it clear just a few nights before that she was welcome within any magic he cast, and she barreled herself into the circle -- ready to push and shove and fight to get inside if she had to, and she'd do it snarling. Confident she'd be let in, Alice dropped to her knees, still in motion and skidding a few inches to where he was; fearlessly shoving her hands into his shoulders to try and stop the way he crawled like an animal pacing a cage. "Abaddon! Don. Don, let me see. All this glass, where did it come from?" A frantic turn of her head, this way and that, as one hand came to find his jaw through the mess of blood and mirrored bits still sparkling with ancient magic in his beard -- if he let her. There were barely any traces of it left where he'd started to crush and break the mirror up. Any regular ol' human might have seen nothing at all. But Alice? There was nothing regular, and barely anything human no longer, about her. She could see it, the shards of the aura of his magic littering the floor within the circle, and all at once she knew what he'd done. Pain sliced in her chest at just the thought of it, and blues flew back to his face. "Don't swallow any more, do you hear me? Spit it out!" You'd best believe, as she mom scolded him, her other hand left his shoulder and hovered below his bloody mouth to catch anything he might have obeyed her on getting rid of. -d-
one reaI bad man: Honestly. Had he of been of sounder mind when he put her to sleep, he would've locked the spell down to make it last longer. The fact was he hadn't been in the right state of mind, and still wasn't. Mirror in his stomach felt like razor blades, but the magic in him was actually working to break it down... Still. It hurt. He could feel the stomach lacerating itself on what he consumed. Trembling fingers rose to a mouth that nearly foamed as blood and spit dribbled out, stained his beard. The magic of the circle was almost gone already, it was the spell he cast the night prior, and there was little resistance against her if any. Maybe she'd feel a tickle of something, like beads hanging from a doorway, but nothing and he was grumbling. Arm stuck out to push her back a step, but it wasn't placed on the right part of her body.. and he hadn't really much strength to use. So much of his energy occupied in dissolving the mirror that he had managed to eat. Bits of it stuck in his gums, tongue, lips, corners of his mouth. "Shh, shh.. It's okay.. it's almost done... I feel.. bee..." He tilted his head aside gagged and retched, repulsive as the black magic twisted and wrenched at his gut. Bits of mirror stuck that stuck in his fingers and continued to bleed readily were sent deeper into his body when he slammed it down on the ground. Bile and blood spilled from lips, making sure it wasn't poured into the hand she put in front of him. "There's... still.. a few left.. I can see it.. I don't.. know why I didn't see it before.. I should have saw it before..." He mumbled and sweated and his skin boiled... there was really one shard of any significance left and it was in the charred log at the center and buried in ash. She probably could have stopped him if she chose to, but he was still going to try reaching for it. <done>
wrecked ships: The small amount of force he put behind the arm that smacked out blindly at her thighs was all but ignored in favor for helping, or at least trying to do such, rather than letting him suffer. They were a team, right? If he suffered, she suffered. "No, baby, no .. you shh, don't talk. You'll only hurt yourself more." She didn't notice when the wet on her face came from tears rather than what had been splashed by Frank, and therefore they were left to spill freely down the high cut of her cheekbones. Alice shifted, when he turned his head; sliding more to his side rather than in front of him, giving him room to vomit what never should have been inside him in the first place. One arm slid 'round his back, clutching at his side to help keep him up and out of the glass that came pouring from his mouth along with foaming stomach acids and so .. so much blood. Clammy hand, caring not one damn bit that his beard was stuck with glass, smoothed it out of the way, wiped the blood away until her own mingled with it; but she hardly felt the too small shards as they sliced at her fingers. "No!," burst from her lips as he claimed to see more, "You'll not! It's enough, Abaddon! It's enough!" He was weak in these moments, far weaker than she, and she pushed him to the side with the brunt force of her hip hitting his to knock him away from the direction he was going for. She could see what he saw, and it was Alice who took it first -- slapping the flat of her palm against it, sending ash billowing up to dissipate into the air. A murmur of words, all it took was two, and the glass reflection became water, water that immediately seeped into the dirt floor. "It's gone, I got rid of it. It's gone," she rounded back, scooting her denim covered knees and shins through the earthy flooring, until she was up against him again -- once more trying to run fingers across his mouth, trying to so very gently wipe away the blood and the glass, so she could see the damages. See what he'd done to himself. -d-
one reaI bad man: "No, no, no, no, no, no.... " There was more if him in there he was certain, but before fingers could find it it was nothing. Nothing. He landed face first into the ash as body lurched itself onto the area where bonefire had been lit, and nose nudged the rank stench of wet ash. It smeared against the bronzed skin, and in a violent thrust of his arm the logs exploded. He lurched a limb violently, clearing out the ash and making a cloud of it in the air. Again his black fire seethed while a culmination of ire and anguish swept and he ran lips into the dirt. He could taste wet ash mixed with the blood, and it was actually a little pleasant against the harshness of wounded and cut up mouth. Fingers scooped into glass that was now water and shoveled it into his lips, while he barely recognized that she was in her own turmoil with tears on cheek. If he had, he may have settled down a little more, but right now he was too concerned with losing bits of himself. It was too late though. Whatever was in that last shard was going to be gone. That was it.. he would have to handle that. He groaned a little and pressed his forehead against the dirt. He sat that way for only a few seconds before rocking back onto his heels and letting arms hang at his sides. By the way, he realized that he wasn't wearing that suit-coat anymore because he put it on her, so instead he was in that undershirt of white. Sleeves rolled up and it was stained in so much blood. Both from being cut up and knicked with mishandled glass, and because it had dribbled so freely from mouth and beard. He let his chin slump against his chest and eyes stare at the wet-ash, and the ground. Chest heaving with each sharply taken breath, blood still trickling from cut lips. The tips of his fingers curled into palms and elbows came to press onto his knees. He shook his head a little without saying anything and lids blinked while he adjusted, and tried to concentrate on what was left inside of him.. and not so much what was lost. Finally, though, after what passed like an hour, but was barely a minute.. he mumbled aloud. "... I'm better... now.. I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you." Bloodied grin, red seeping between the teeth in moving lines of red. He winced a little and reached into his lip, small chunk of that sharp-edged mirror pulled from the inside of lip and dropped to the dirt. <done>
wrecked ships: .. She was wearing his jacket, wasn't she? Hands probably swamped in the bulk of the sleeves. We can work around that, and how they fell down to her wrists while she dabbed at his mouth and clutched him. There were rules about approaching, touching, coming in any sort of contact with a wounded animal, but Alice Clare ignored them all. This was her animal, her dragon, her wolf. Hurt. For a moment she just watched; bringing blood stained hands up to press against the tightness in her chest; smearing the darkness of it against the white of her tee. Watched him belly flop into the ashes, against that remaining log, and into the water that would make the ash muddy and stick. Watched him mourn what she had done, but she'd only known he couldn't eat any more of that fucking glass. When he lay still in the dirt for those few moments, Alice inched forward on her knees, reaching him just as he rose up. There was still no fear as to what he might do to her if she kept pushing, just what he was doing to himself, and trembling hands rose once more now that he sat so still. Delicately, they pawed at him; plucking glass from his beard, thumbing away the splash of blood his frantic motions had splattered across his cheeks, his nose. Even across his forehead. He was a bloody mess. Literally. "I'm not scared," her voice shook within the rasp of her throat, and tear-spilling eyes lifted from her task at his beard and up. Catching the grin he painted red across his mouth, but continuing up to meet the brightness of his greens. Too bright, with the turmoil and emotions that had come, that had drawn him into the frenzy that had brought him to the conclusion he had to eat his troubles away. Those eyes dropped watching him pull out the glass, and she mouthed those same two words. It was a drip when it hit the ash on the floor. She'd do it to every piece he pulled out of himself if she had to. She'd do it to every glass in this black house if it came down to it, until they were standing in the puddles of it. "This is not the way," dark brows knit, and she lifted her stare back up to him; the knuckles of her hand brushing velvet soft along his cheek. "We will find what's missing, but my love, this is not the way." It couldn't be. -d-
one reaI bad man: It was the way. It was the quickest way. It made sense. And he could even feel it working. Sometimes magic required sacrifice and self-mutilation. In some instances it was the soul, in others the body. He could feel the bits of glass transform to water, and wounds that were left empty now flowed more readily. Although, that may have been the water's doing too. He trembled less, but it still felt weakened and stretched thin. Even while his energy bristled and fumed so strong, and Francis laid dead outside. Organ failure. He'd bring him back later. No worries. The golem had a strong anchor for his soul, and with his new connection with the local coroner, replacing body parts should be a lot easier. Awkwardly his body shifted, ass moving beyond his heels while legs also bent in a bizarre manner, almost as though he were possessed. It looked impossible the way he shifted, but he did and ass was on the ground and arms were drawing her into his lap. "It's okay. It's fine now. It's fine." He was saying it moreso to soothe her tears and also to allow her to know he wasn't going to be devouring any more pieces of that mirror. He couldn't. It was gone. Maybe there was another way to recover what was lost, but it really didnt' matter. Either it would or it wouldn't. He stained his own suit with how much he bled on it once she was drawn into his embrace. Face lowering into the softness of her golden crown while he bled into it while he mumbled into her hair. "... I don't think the spell is ready for you yet though... I'll have to make some adjustments, first." Yes. That was the truth. Something went severely awry, and it was hidden from him what had happened. Or at least, at first it was hidden to him.. Became all too obvious once her madness filled the gaps and it left him feeling hollow in places. But already he could feel some of those lost bits returned as magic mirror was digested and made part of the body it tore up inside. He could actually feel it still cutting him up inside, and knew he'd have to spit up more blood. And he did that. Coughed a little, tilted his head over her shoulder and put a mouthful of the thick substance into the dirt. <done>
wrecked ships: Yikes. Poor Franny. Dead, and alone. Because Alice Clare cared so little about him, in favor of the dark wizard. The same was true for anyone, really. They paled in comparison to him. No matter how dark it was. Making herself light as a feather so the way he pulled her into his lap wasn't going to be a difficult thing to do, Alice settled into a straddle over his thighs and wound her arms about his neck. He buried in, and she did the same. There into the side of his neck, where it became his shoulder. "It's not okay, it's not fine," she murmured back, words spilling just as generously as the blood that came from his mouth. "You're hurt. There's so much blood. You need it back. Take mine. Can you take mine? Take it all." A lift of her head to allow wild eyes to search his. "Will that help?" He was talking about the spell he wanted to cast for her, to help disguise who she'd was destined to be from who she was presenting herself as to the council -- but all that talk just spurred other thoughts into her brain. "That's it. We can do a spell. One to mend the damage you've done -- to find the missing bits of you. Just take mine, all of it. I don't need it. There's a spell, I know it. I've seen it. A transfer. I don't need it. You do." Alice shifted, pressing herself close to him, a little down -- not getting in the way when he needed to rid himself of the blood that filled his mouth. Turning her face into his damp hair, Alice nuzzled in; closing her eyes against the darkness it provided. "I'll give you all." The softness of her hand swept down the sweat-stick of his shirt along his spine. She could feel the tension as it still rode in his muscles. Feel the electric buzz that she knew so well, that came with a mind was drawn so taut it had nothing left to do but break. That took a toll on a body. The embrace around him flexed, just enough to tighten without hurting him further, since he was still so full of the glass she couldn't see to liquefy. -d-
one reaI bad man: The wizard's skin should have been cooler and clammy, because it certainly had paled some, but it was hot and slick with sweat. The magic gone rotten left him with a fever and his bristling energy continued to cook him. She'd feel those arms still writhe around her, thorned vines squeezing her against him before the scratch of his beard nipped at her cheek. He left blood trailed along her cheek, mutilated slivers pressing wet and hot kiss to her mouth that left red stained there. "Yes, I know. You would give me everything. You have already. Thank you." He mumbled. And it was true. He was feeding off of her some, but she'd barely even recognize it. The way his black fire made her water steam and dissolve into him. Feeding and fueling his body, not that he was in any dire need, but it would help him to even out. It was better than laying their in agony and with no energy of his own. ".. mm... I don't know what.. I did wrong. It has been awhile.. maybe..." Mumbling at himself, to himself, to her too. Pieces of his brain separated into different voices that worked together for the good of Abaddon Bell. Parts of him, the parts wary of the water-witch laid the blame of this 'accident' at her feet. He wouldn't have even been doing this if it wasn't for her, right? The voice had little pull in his brain now though, stuffed down in the black of his mind and partially wishing that was one of the reflections lost. Maybe he'd cast it again, with a little more direction this time. She'd feel fingers digging into her hip, face tilting to nudge his nose against hers and press another bloodied kiss to her mouth. "...I got blood in your hair." <done>
wrecked ships: "I haven't done anything." You know. Other than make it impossible for him to eat all his magic. Or climb all over him, probably hurting him more. Selfish, that's all she was. Snuffling little breath hitched into her mouth as he laid his over hers and smeared it with his body's essence. She didn't recognize it, no. The feeling of him pulling at her magic was so .. familiar, it was impossible for her to feel it in such small quantities. She began to kiss at him. His lips, so softly as to not make it a kiss of pain. His cheeks, up along his nose. Over his eyes. "We'll figure out what went wrong. And we'll fix it. And it'll go right next time. We'll do it together. Together, alright? You're not alone anymore." She wasn't naive to think that he'd been alone before her. But she knew it wasn't like this -- and if it had been, there was a long gap in time from that point to this. Alice matched his soul, and he used that match to set them ablaze. Soft lips pressed a little bloody still into his beard near his chin, then rose to meet his mouth when he found it and took her hips in his hands. "It's not the first time .. won't be the last. It'll come out in the wash." Her touch skimmed across his brow, and into sweat-heavy strands to push them back from his face. Careful, so careful, she laid another kiss across his mouth; tongue swiping at the taste of the blood that came from the cuts on his lips. If he didn't wince, or try to pull away .. she lapped at them, as if she might heal them with her tongue along. She lapped at them, dancing that tricksy muscle over the slices that bled, taking the taste of him into her mouth, into her soul. Alice bubbled, like a boiling pot -- his skin was so hot! His magic scorching her waters! It was a heat she could never get enough of, no matter how many times it burned. Long limbs shifted; dropping her bottom more into the wealth of his thighs, and her feet crossed at his ass. Pressed in close, a little sound escaping against his lips. "Not alone anymore." He had to know that. -d-
one reaI bad man: The man with the bloody grin probably trembled moreso than she had ever felt before, but that's what happened when it felt like razorblades were through your body. Still, he ignored the pain, blocked it out and didn't let it show more than the uncontrolled tremors now and again. She probably would feel his gut tighten and body grow tense now and again, but it was like passing breezes. Never knew when they'd come, and it wasn't enough to knock you over, but remind you that there was some bluster out today. He made sounds that were sighs mixed with grunts, mouth readily available to her tasting tongue and pressing lips. ".. never been alone, you've always been with me.. even when you weren't.. I've felt you out there. Waiting." Again mouth dotted hers and lifted to her cheek, lifting little freckles of red to press to her honey skin. He had to let greens sift over her in the dark, in the dirt, in his heat. And he was moved, it made the grin soften and forehead lurch forward, sweat-slick brow nuzzling against her forehead. Her cheeks still stained with tears and his blood. "I love you, Alice." He said it flatly and plainly after fingers had raised up and cupped her ears. He brought her face in closer and let tongue slide out to lick at her lower plush lip, greens soulsearching in those watery blue gems. "... I do... feel much better. I do." He said with truthfulness, wanting to make sure any worry was soothed. He loved her worry, he loved her pain. Loved her suffering for when he suffered. And he was there showing it in the sick twist of crazed grin, smeared in red. <done>
wrecked ships: Romantic. That's all he was. This monster of hers, who mutilated himself over magic and got her to so willingly agree to be part of the next go 'round that could result in the same. That romance spilled from his tongue and onto hers with every lave of the feminine counterpart that sought to soothe. "I waited so long," she sighed softly against his mouth when he pressed it; turning her face a little when he went after her cheek. Tears still sluiced unnoticed, but less frequently. They'd made her nose all red and her neck and the top of her chest all splotchy from the heightened emotion that had spilled over out of pure and honest fear that what he'd done to himself could not be fixed. Soft hands found either side of his neck; smoothed thumbs along his beard and skin alike along his cheeks and she nuzzled her nose to his while he rested his brow to hers. A soft wing of her mouth into a the sort of smile that mostly just dimpled her left cheek. "I know," she Han Solo'd at him in a dreamy coo that came so much closer with the way he pulled her mouth to his by way of her ears. "I love you," she murmured there, and her hands dropped and began to pry open the buttons of his shirt. It wasn't hurried, nor slow, and she had no other intentions but to get the bloody sweaty thing off of him. They needed a bath. And his hand probably needed looking at too. Could he even feel the way he'd slammed it down onto the glass poking into it, or had he gone numb to anything but the pain that was so great that it wracked through his body in intervals and made Alice want to shove her fingers into his throat and make sure he puked up everything, every shard that remained. Pulling her shoulders back, gifting herself with the luxury of looking him over with his declaration that he was feeling better, Alice squinted at him. "All of you, even the parts you felt slipping away, are mine, y'know." She could see the truth brimming there in his eyes. It came with his pallor returning bit by bit, and the way there wasn't as much tension making him rigid. "So, I'll have you all the way better. Tell me how to do this. Any way, any how." -d-
one reaI bad man: The slam of his palm was probably the worse of the wounds. The skin was torn open on both sides of hand and didn't appear to be slowing down its bleed anytime soon. There were easily two dozen or so individual knicks and cuts upon him, some no longer bleeding and small, others still leaking. The mouth on the other hand was probably around seven or so scratches that were visible, and who knew how many more in his mouth that still leaked. He swallowed it most of the time, but even a man that ate whole people found himself growing nauseated when too much went in. She worked at buttons and he was too busy dropping kisses so softly on her cheek and chin to help her. In fact he was probably more of a hindrance, but in the order of what was more important.. his mouth tasting her was higher than her fingers undressing him. ".... mine.. I am mine.. and yours.. and ours... " He let nostrils flare and he stole her scent right from her cheek, and face heaved forward to let his mouth trace the line of an eyebrow. The gap above her nose was left bloodied when lips smoothed down and he felt her fingers parting shirt. He did offer aid then, rolling physique away in a lean and shoulders bobbling until left arm could slide out. And the his right. Ruined garment allowed to fall to the ground and show off the colorful mural of his torso. The colors were more vibrant on skin that was left glossy and paler than normal, flecks of red that bled through making the thorns look even more dangerous on his arms. "...Do.. what.. what do you want to do... love me...."
