Saturday, January 01, 2005

Twenty Nine- Birds of a Feather, Second Generation

Quick note- none of these are ever really finished; this scene is taken completely out of context and really needs to be a hell of a lot longer.
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He was sleeping. Emphasis on the *was*, because he still couldn't sleep well with another presence in the same room, particularly not when that presence was looming. The fucking sword was in his hand before he woke up, and it hummed contentedly against Carly's throat by the time he'd finished opening his eyes.

Oh. Fuck. He was hung over. He'd done something stupid last night, and, it seemed, something stupid this morning, as well.

"Carly..." She squeaked. His arm trembled. The sword giggled. "Take three very slow steps backwards, please."

She moved back and promptly fell on her ass, shaking too hard to stand. He ignored her for a moment and stared at the sword. "Down, boy." Light slid across the blade like water; it was mocking him. "Shut up, bitch, and get out of here. You know when you're not needed or wanted." He had to force his fingers to let go of the hilt; the blade, rather than hit the ground, disappeared.

"Carly?" He remembered absolutely nothing from the past five days. It was nearly Christmas, and this time of year got to him like nothing else. "Carls? You okay?"

She was staring at him, pale and shaking and crying helplessly. Not tears. Please not tears. I hate it when girls cry. "Hey, come on, it's okay..." Like hell it is. Shouldn't have come back last night- none of them know, yet. Tristan suspects, but none of them know. Also, you just tried to slice her head off. This is not okay.

"Would it help if I got Tristan?" Never let it be said that he could not see when he was out of his depth.

She gaped at him. That was good. It meant she wasn't making those little hiccupping sob noises. "C-can he tell me what the fuck you are?"

It hurt less than he'd thought it would. At some point, his shirt had gotten unbuttoned, and she was staring fixedly at the scars. "I can't figure that out myself most of the time."

"What just happened?"

"You startled me. It's...a self-defense mechanism, of sorts. I should have locked the door."

"But what are you?" She looked into his eyes, still pale and trembling. "How- I saw it appear, and then it disappeared..."

"Carly, do you believe in God?" He saw her eyes widen and felt a small amount of relief; there might be hope for him yet. "I swear to you I am no different now than I was a month ago, and I would never, ever hurt you or your brothers. Do you believe in God?"

"Maybe." She was breathing more easily.

"That's a start."

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