A SOFT PLACE TO FALL [OPEN]

[ROMA|RED]

There was always that moment, right before you were in the air that you looked for your spot. Ideally it was free of debris or bushes – was flat, and soft. Then the rush came as you were airborne for only a second, before you hit the ground hard knocking the wind from you. If you were lucky, you could roll and take the edge off the impact. If you were unlucky, you got a mouthful of dirt, possibly something broken or sprained, and a fierce aching all over your body as you fought to breathe. Then a moment of silence as you listened to the sound of mocking hooves thundering further and further away. Roma hated falling. For all that she had fallen off horses more than she could count, there was nothing about the experience that did anything for her but piss her off, and engineer promises to send the beast in question to the glue factory. This time was no different. She had landed on her back square in the ribs, hitting the dirt and rolling into a bush. There she lay for a moment, reevaluating her decisions in life and trying to decide if she wanted to call it a day. Falls, breaks, bruises, injuries of almost any kind came with the equine territory. Roma was accustomed to falling now and then, but this mare was downright savage. This was the sixth time today she had fallen and her patience was now gone. It was a point of pride that Roma always said she fell. She’d always thought less of rodeo queens that claimed to have been thrown. As if the horse had stood up, pulled the rider from its back and thrown them onto the ground. Hell. You were stupid enough to fall, man up and say you fell – you chose to get on the damn thing. It wasn’t the horse’s idea. Stop making yourself the victim, she reminded herself harshly as she struggled to her feet. Again. A scrape enveloped her tanned shoulder, the blooded and tattered shirt filled with grit and sand, and Roma’s red hair had come free of its tie but there was certainly worse falls she had experienced. She pushed her hair back from her freckled face stubbornly. Miss Klamath, a famous Prorodeo Hall of Fame Bronc Horse from the nineteen-fifties had never been ridden successfully. Her unique style of kicking and bucking, perpendicular and higher with each jump soon gave her a reputation for unseating all riders - thus inducting her into the hall of fame. She had nothing on Dezba. Roma had chosen the mare’s name well. It meant, ‘going to war’ in Native American, her mother’s tongue, and sure as the sun set in the west every time she was around the damn mare it was as if they were going to war … with each other. After stumbling upon the mottled mare caught up in a rope in the retro forest, Roma had battled a lion to keep her safe. After weeks of working with her, she had decided either Dezba was the most deep seeded retro on the face of the planet – or was just a really really bitchy mare. She was the ugliest horse Roma had ever seen in her life. A chocolaty-poop brown colored the mare, interrupted by chaotic splashes and dots of white all over her as if flocks of pigeons had flown over and left their blessings. Paint markings left her legs white, as well as random splotches on her neck, stomach, and face – and dear God that face. A convex nose known in the horse world as ‘roman’ made her head look almost too big for her body. The white of her nose made her nostrils and the skin around her eyes pink and pocked with black as if she were sickly. Her ears were long and narrow, and her brown eyes were small and squinty. Horses that had these ‘pig eyes’ were generally considered stubborn and hard to handle. Even when they were wide, they lacked the gentling dark color around the iris that most horses had - giving a stark pink that made her look wild-eyed and unpredictable. The joke of a mane and tail the mare sported were both very thin and very short, her mane the length of a dollar bill, and her tail trailing nowhere near her hocks. However, Roma had been around horses for a very long time – and looks could be deceiving. Dezba might have been ugly as sin but her build was the epitome of hardy and sound. Her strong neck was the perfect length in relation to her short, strong back – tying into her withers to give her a smooth gait and agile movement. Her chest was broad but not too broad as many stock horses tended be that made it hard for them to maneuver in the shoulders - hastening fatigue to hinder speed and endurance. Her legs were stout and strong, her feet large, and her haunches powerful enough to handle hills for days. In short – Dezba was fast, could last over long distances, and was sure footed and agile enough to handle uncertain terrain. Roma couldn’t have bred for better conformation – and in a place like the Menagerie it could save their lives. If she could manage to stay on the damn thing. Dezba had what Roma decided was a very business-like attitude. Once the young woman had established the basics with Dezba (which was no easy feat without a corral), she had gotten a handmade halter on her, her feet into decent shape, and taught her that Roma was indeed not going to eat her. Still the mare had no interest in bonding. If Roma did anything more than brush her free of dirt and clear her hooves, Dezba’s ears would pin and her teeth would show. It little mattered how many times Roma corrected her; the mare simply wasn’t interested in being fawned over. Riding was another can of worms entirely. Sure, she could get on – even trot around or canter over a dune, but at any time Dezba decided there was danger she wheeled and kicked (hell if Roma stayed on or not) and high-tailed it to the next territory. Roma was a good rider, hell – she’d ridden her entire life, but staying on this mutton-withered spooking asshole mare bareback was like riding a barrel in the ocean with sharks waiting to eat you. What confused Roma all the more, was Dezba always waited for her a mile or so away. Roma thought she’d head for the hills and leave her altogether, but she never did. This time it was more than Roma’s pride that was hurt. She couldn’t breathe, and there was a fierce aching in her side that told her she had cracked her ribs again. She wheezed as she walked along – following Dezba’s hoof prints in fierce pain, wondering when she would decide this horse wasn’t worth it and just leave her. An intense hunger overtook Roma suddenly as Sister Wolf surfaced, causing Roma’s brown eyes to lighten a touch toward gold. Or eat her, she suggested. Roma shoved her to the back of her mind. They both knew that any time Sister came anywhere near the surface Dezba quite completely lost her little horse-mind. The idea of a predator anywhere near her was simply not something the mare was willing to tolerate, and to make matters worse, Sister thought it was funny. Easily half of her unscheduled dismounts were attributed to Sister Wolf ‘forgetting’ and surging to the fore because of a smell or sound she caught. The other times where because she was being downright volatile. Between the two, Roma’s patience and stress levels were thinning dangerously. No. You promised! Roma rang in her mind as her tired body began to march, flared by her anger. She followed the trail almost blindly as she raged.You said you’d stay the hell out of it if I let you run at night, and you ent keeping to your word! The stroke of Sister Wolf’s rebuttal to Roma’s accusation was suddenly stopped – feeling in Roma’s mind as if someone were about to speak before their mouth snapped shut. In unison, Roma and Sister Wolf froze and turned slowly – their eyes a brilliant gold with the sight of Sister Wolf as they looked behind them. Someone or something was close by. The concern for Dezba caught Roma and the gold fell to brown as Roma immediately whipped around and pushed her sore legs into a jog. Within the first three strides she was gasping and holding her side, hobbling along as quickly as she could. Topping a hill she looked down to the oasis. There by a tree she saw Dezba nosing around the sand for Lord knew what. A rule she promised to both the horse and herself was never to tie Dezba up. If she couldn’t protect her it was cruel and selfish to leave a horse practically gift wrapped for a predator. Roma turned and grit her teeth against the pain as she hobbled down the sand and snagged the mare's halter. Maybe they could get into the trees before whomever or whatever it was realized they were there. If it hadn’t already. ”C'on mare,” she coaxed as quietly as she could.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

Sweat ran slick from the line of his hair, down the length of his face. It curved across the angular lines of his cheeks and jaw, dripping from his brows and the tip of his nose. He could not breath. His lungs were on fire. His legs were on fire. Each step felt as though it pulled him backward, the very earth collapsing beneath the weight of his body. Sand gave way as he descended the dune, turning his run into an ongoing and inelegant slide (or stumble). Tomas made a point to run a similar route as often as possible; that did not make it any easier, particularly when he upped the distance. This was the farthest he had ever gone. The effort was extremely strenuous. Every fiber of him begged relief; he wanted to stop, he wanted to rest. The sun beat hot on his back and he felt the stickiness of sweat and the dry, itchy feel of a sunburn. His skin had already become bronzed from constant exposure, turning darker by the day, so that those brilliant eyes stood out in sharp contrast to ruggedly tanned face and the harsh lines of his black lashes. The pinch of his brows showed the physical pain he was in.

And so it was staggering and breathless that he arrived at the oasis, transitioning from a mile-eating jog to a pained lope to a tense walk. His heart beat loudly in his ears and he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, momentarily oblivious to his surroundings. "Momentary" must not have lasted much longer than a second. He had been trained too long to be foolish or careless; it was instinct that made Tomas scan his surroundings with a brief sweep of his eyes. He at first looked over the scuffed footprints as if they were unimportant. Then Tom's eyes snapped back toward them. He internally groaned, resenting the fact that he could not breathe and he was about to do a Scout's job. He would rather investigate it now, himself, than have someone find something potentially dangerous later.

The tension with Fallen and Carna forced Tomas to be on edge. It was for that reason that he had run the entire distance with his knives in his boots, which were standard military issue and "desert sand" in color. It looked comical when he wore only knee-length athletic shorts and a pair of black socks along with them, but hey, Tomas had not intended to dress to impress when going on a god-awful run. He stooped low and nimbly retrieved the blades before pursuing the footprints. Something felt wrong to him; he had lived too long to forsake this apprehensive feeling. He took in the tree line and moved to the edge of it, cautious, well aware that he was in a position that was difficult to defend. "Hello?" Tomas called, lightly, his tone casual and even jovial. His expression said otherwise. In this form he could not rely on scent to identify the stranger; nor could he tell if they had been there recently or not. As he neared the tree edge he examined the sharp break of twigs and grasses, certainly fresh. It then came to his attention that they were not only human footprints but also larger ones, difficult to identify in the dry sand.

He moved farther into the trees, the knives held lightly in his hands. "I swear, if you're a Fallen playing games..." Tomas added  laugh to lighten the threat but his eyes continued to search for movement. The cluster of foliage was not large enough to hide anyone for long. He heard a telltale snap and burst rapidly into motion toward the sound--he lunged through the trees, a dead sprint, his earlier exhaustion forgotten.

If they were Fallen, they would not have run when he had appeared.

[ROMA|RED]

There was an explosion to their left, and a creature came at them full tilt. Dezba spooked, throwing her head high and bolting sideways with a snort. Roma’s hand clinched around the lead in surprise and was half-dragged a few yards before she found her feet. Her eyes were wide and surprised as they looked the man over. It was just a man. No crazy brute, no savage killer. This, to Roma, meant he likely meant little trouble. At least, nothing she might not be able to handle. She didn't want to run off just because he might be dangerous. Dezba was entirely uncooperative, shying away and tossing her head and fussing until finally Roma whirled and hauled on her head collar, commanding her to ‘whoa’ in an uncompromising tone that a staff sergeant would envy. The mare mellowed and Roma took a breath before again looking at the desperado. “Christ almighty but you know how to make an entrance,” she almost accused. She did not know who he was, but Roma was never the type to assume danger before a friendly greeting. Usually. Sister Wolf was mentally over the next sand dune, and it took more effort than Roma would have liked to keep her and Sister's feet grounded. Running means we are guilty, Roma argued, and kept them were they were. We haven't done anything wrong, she reasoned. Yet, said Sister Wolf soundly. Roma ignored her. The girl's skin was pale beneath a forest of freckles, and her whiskey-red hair was curled and tousled in a wild fashion. Her brown eyes were framed by long lashes that kissed her checks as they flickered in a combination of fear and excitement. Her nose was not overly long, but very straight, and her mouth was full … more apt to smile than frown. Sure enough the corners of her mouth turned up as she smiled in an admonishing way. “And I play plenty ‘a games, but I ent’ no Fallen. Apologies,” she said with dip of her head as if she wore a hat and it were the most natural thing the world. In that moment, there was no mortal danger. To meet a stranger in the Menagerie could be meeting your death. Instead, her reaction was as if the man had burst through the hedges between shared properties that had long since been established. Sister Wolf studied the stranger. He smelled of Fallen, and held the command of an alpha. Weariness wrapped around her as a shawl, and despite Roma’s ease she still wanted to bolt. It was better to run and ask questions later. Looking to her horse, Roma soothed the mare – then slapped her once on the neck affectionately and turned back to the stranger. “Ya’ll right or ya need some water or sumthin?” she asked, a hand feeling for her canteen that lingered on her generous hip.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

Tom had been told on a number of occasions that he possessed a strange and dangerous demeanor. He held himself easily, the weight of his tall and lean frame feather-light. His movements, even exhausted, bore a semblance of feline grace that could not be ignored--and his eyes. They were light eyes, mellow eyes, but the sharp and bright color of them gave the impression that he was thinking, perpetually thinking, and that he saw. They followed each of her movement's, as well as the mare's, and analyzed them. Tomas had taken the pair in with a sweep of those eyes and, upon seeing them, he had stilled. He now held himself there quietly, even docilely, allowing Roma to take control of her startled mare. "I could say the same about you," Tomas replied, with a note of jest. He still stood with that risky stillness, that thoughtful lack of action, with all the indolence of a savage predator lazing in the sun.

He was not fool enough to believe her innocent, or of no threat. But his better nature, as always, appealed to him and to Roma. She was not Fallen. Tomas knew that as soon as he saw her face--perhaps, however, she could be. He gave a smile that reached his eyes. "What a shame, ma'am. I must say I'm a little disappointed." The shrug he gave was childish, all loose limbs.

Her offer was met with a grateful smile. He moved slowly in her direction, careful not to further startle the mare. His better since told him to politely refuse; but he wanted to bridge the gap between Rogue and ring-member. He wanted to develop trust. That began with something as simple as taking a drink of her canteen. "I would be very grateful. Thank you."

Tomas took the canteen and unscrewed the lid. It took more self control than he would admit to refrain from drinking the entire bottle; he was parched, with sweat still dripping down his face. His bare torso glistened with it; he handed the canteen back to her and nodded his head in thanks. "I'm Tomas McKellar, the Fallen Alpha. It is a pleasure to meet you." There was the bombshell. He waited to gauge her reaction, intrigued to see how this rogue would take meeting a person of authority.

[ROMA|RED]

Roma watched curiously as he strode forward without fear and took her offered canteen. Her brown eyes roved over his bare, tanned skin, the roll of his throat as he swallowed the liquid and the sharp countenance of his eyes. He wouldn’t miss much. Dezba exhausted an unimpressed sigh through her nostrils, and cocked a hip – anticipating that they would not be leaving anytime soon. Shooting the mare a warning glance, Roma released her hold on the lead and took a step toward the stranger; just to see if it made him uncomfortable. When weariness did not disturb his body language, her eyebrow lifted in satisfaction. Gutsy. She had found that most males became uncomfortable when they weren’t controlling the distance between them and a stranger … and simply put, Roma lived to f*** with them. Sister Wolf was fit to be tied, pacing back and forth in her mind like an animal on display at the zoo. Roma did little to comfort her – she was tired of the she wolf assuming everyone and everything was a threat. Instead, her mind sent a quelling sentiment to her counterpart and Sister relinquished her anxiety begrudgingly. The side of her mouth kicked up as she watched his control. Round these parts everyone was thirsty – all of the time. She was impressed that he decided to be polite and not down it, almost as impressed as she was that he’d taken it in the first place. The Menagerie was usually about sizing up a person and deciding whether or not they were The Enemy. This man acted as she did … hell, they could have been taking a break from a paint ball campaign and thinking about lunch. An arm crossed her stomach, her open hand supporting the opposite elbow as her thumb nail found her teeth. It was an easy, thoughtful gesture as opposed to a nervous one. When he handed the canteen back, she took it with an almost knowing smile and slung it over one shoulder before returning her nail to her teeth with consideration. He was hansom, aware of himself, and held a commanding if not dangerous air; a bad combination for a girl like Roma, or mayhap, for him. When he introduced himself Roma cracked a full blown smile and chuckled. Of course he was. It was not a usual attitude people in The Menagerie held. Most that treated life in the dome as if it were a walk in the park either had shifts that would make others sit up and pay attention, or were egotistical morons. Roma was neither. It was a the simple knowledge that there was little she could do about being here, and refusing to be fearful of everything. Death would happen eventually – might as well greet it with your boots on. “Well I’ll b’ damned,” she lilted. Her rich, southern accented voice bordered genuine surprise and sarcasm – neither of which she could help. Her posture shifted as she took another step forward and offered her hand to shake. “It’s a dream come true,” she said with a touch of irony and winked. “I mean really, Elvis who?” She chuckled again at her own joke and looked down almost bashfully, meaning to be light as opposed to being snarky or mocking. “I’m Roma. Roma Marie Partholain, nice to meetchya Tom,” she said politely and pushed a whiskey curl from her face before looking around. There wasn’t much about – which was one of the reasons she was here. “What kinda trouble you lookin’ for ‘round here?” she asked conversationally.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

He did not budge against her sudden proximity, preferring instead to cock a brow and offer an amused smirk. The next several seconds allowed Tomas to gather as much information about this redheaded stranger as he could. Within a span of thirty seconds he had concluded that she had more balls than many men in the Menagerie, greeting him with the confidence and self-assurance of a woman who was not in the Menagerie. Tomas appreciated the change, although he was not certain he could trust the difference. In his experience, extreme confidence often meant that the individual had a reason to be confidence, particularly in the Menagerie.

There was a thought, there, as she responded to him. It was not with reverence. It was with a soft sarcasm, a humor that could have easily been barbed if spoken in a different tone. It was not nervousness, or sudden caution, but it was as though they had met in normal circumstances. Tomas wiped shook her offered hand and then wiped the sweat from his brow, grinning with a wolfish sort of pleasure. "Not every day you get to meet a celebrity around here." He shrugged his shoulders, grinning in that way that stereotypically flirtatious and self-assured, the indolent confidence of an adept athlete. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Roma, and are you sure you shouldn't be asking yourself that question?" He rolled his shoulders, stretching the taunt muscles. The adrenaline had faded from his system and Tomas felt the effects of his run, now, the tingle in his calves and thighs and shins. He moved a comfortable step backward, dropping into several easy stretching exercises. "Excuse me... you kind of interrupted my run." He was not looking forward to the run back to Fallen territory. His eyes gleamed, amused, as he added: "I should thank you for giving me a reason to procrastinate going back."

It was interesting for him to deal with someone that did not belong to his ring and, strangely, Tomas felt more normal than he had in a long time. He was not a leader in front of this woman as much as he was in front of his Fallen. She did not expect nor require anything from him, which gave the alpha a refreshing lightness to soul. Nevertheless he could not allow her to stay on his territory; it would set a bad example. That did not mean, however, that it had to chase her away immediately. "So why are you a rogue?" He posed the question with an air of seriousness, hand gripping his ankle as the stretched his thigh and balanced for a moment on one leg, eyes still locked thoughtfully on her own. From the way that she assessed him, it was clear that very little would get beyond those sharp auburn eyes.

[ROMA|RED]

When he grinned those baby blues of his lit up, and her head tilted to one side and back – watching him between her long lashes. He was quite striking, and the lofty bastard knew it. Her teeth caught her bottom lip and she huffed an amused noise when he referred to himself as a celebrity. Lifting her gaze to their surroundings she could see that indeed he was alone, and strangely that comforted her. Not because there might have been an attack but rather, they were slipping into an ease that no one else in The Menagerie thus far had allowed her. Maybe they could pretend for just a little while. It was hard in dirty, three day old clothes, weighing fifteen pounds lighter than she probably should, and withstanding the constant thrill of dread they all had adopted (for even the fiercest feared the Keepers), but maybe they could … for just a little while. Roma kicked up the side of her mouth when he commented that maybe it was a question for herself. She knew why she was here – but she liked that he didn’t ask her a question he didn’t answer himself. When he asked for a pardon and began to stretch her stance shifted ever so slightly into spectator, and she watched him appreciatively. No, not in a coy way for very little about Roma was shy. She kept his eye contact but her peripherals wandered quite openly. I should thank you for giving me a reason to procrastinate going back. “Oh sugar, don’t worry about that – “ she began, and winked. Her use of sugar was unique to southern women. “I am being repaid as we speak.” She was a flirt, but he could handle it. Besides ... she was going easy on him. She chuckled and crossed her arms as she hitched her hip to one side. A few moments passed as he stretched and her attention lingered before the need to make sure they were still alone overwhelmed her desire to watch him. Her brown eyes lifted to spy the horizon again and saw nothing. She turned halfway to check on Dezba who had adopted a look of being quite put upon, then back to Tom as he asked her. So why are you a rouge? He asked and she made a second noise of amusement from her nose, then shrugged and dropped her arms. A free hand lifted to scratch the back of her head from where she had missed a twig and as she pulled it free from her hair she winced from the prickly pain. The damn thing was pulling tiny individual hairs free and that always hurt. She answered him distractedly. “I was part of a Ring, ah,” she sucked hair through her teeth as she fussed with the twig. Her head canted to one side so that she might spy the unwanted passenger in her fiery hair. She groaned and huffed in exasperation. “But they weren’t really conducive to my lifestyle, so I left.” There was sarcasm in her words that she hadn’t meant to use, but there it was. The last three words were free of irony or weight. Her tone suggested it was simply the only option. It was the truth at the very least ... more or less. "Sweet Jesus!" she whispered in frustration. The sucker was harder to get out than she thought possible. "Have a knife?" She asked without looking at him.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

He recognized the danger of this normalcy. He should have not regarded her, perhaps, with such calm acceptance. The Menagerie taught an inherent distrust; a caution that forever flowed in the blood, heightening the senses and evoking a sort of uncertainty to life. Tomas disliked conforming to this nature; he did not like to immediately assume the worst about people and so here he was, stretching leisurely and without fear in front of a perfect stranger.

Technically, he thought, eyes alight with amusement, she isn't a stranger if  I know her name. He could not help but grin broadly at her observation of him--it was clear that she was looking at his little "display", although that honestly had not been the reason Tomas had begun to stretch. His muscles ached in a way that was wonderful and horrible all at once, resulting in a slight grimace and a curl to his spine as he straightened, hands stretched upward toward the sky. The muscles of his abdomen contracted simultaneously. Now this was a display, done with the full intention of getting her attention.

He relaxed, then, laughing in response to her blatantly flirtatious statement. It was clear to him that this rogue did not possess much in the way of shame. Internally, he could not help but note the fact she had not answered the question he had returned to her, something that piqued his interest. Tomas enjoyed understanding the purpose behind others actions and he wondered, with intense curiosity, why she was there. A part of him, one which he dismissed as foolish, wished to believe that she was there simply due to a fancy. She wished his Ring no harm.

Tomas was not that much of a fool, however, and thus he would keep himself observant and on his toes. That did not necessarily mean that he was tense, however, instead standing with the quiet confidence of a very capable man. "Whatever I can do to entertain a guest," replied the alpha, with a wink of his own.

"That is understandable. Ring life isn't for everyone. Which group was it, if you don't mind me asking?" It could tell him something about her character, although Tomas understood that Ring stereotypes did not always fit their members. He knew plenty of bloodthirsty Fallen, kind Carna, and selfless Fulsi. Tomas, for some reason, could scarcely see her conforming to any of the aforementioned tribes. She carried herself in a way that bespoke of independence, perhaps too large to be contained by a "family" title in a place where people were so easily betrayed. His eyes flicked to their surroundings, briefly, as he shifted nearer to her and assured himself that they were still alone in the small alcove. He could hear the wind through the trees and the brush of it against his skin cooled the alpha.

He observed her struggle briefly, with a bemused smile, before retrieving the knife he had returned to his boot. "Do you mind?" How trusting was she? How far could their little masquerade extend? Tomas was aware that they were both playing far into their faked normalcy, their faked comfort, and so he stepped toward her with the knife held easily in his hand. He reached out with his free hand, securing the strand of hair between her fingertips. He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, close enough that the heat of his body could easily extend to her own, before he deftly cut the strand of hair and stepped back. He held the strand for a moment, with the barb still in place, before allowing it to fall from his fingertips. His eyes returned to her, gauging a reaction, testing her limits with a wayward grin. "My dad used to say that redheads were the Devil incarnate," Tom said lightly. "And that they'd take your soul and all your money in the divorce."

[ROMA|RED]

There was no recognition to the danger attached to the request and it was not until he drew near - blade in hand - that she considered it. Do you mind? He asked, his deep voice much closer and quieter than she had anticipated. Her instinct was to defend and cover her sudden fear with humor and confidence. Offense was the best defense. She did not shy away; rather she forced herself to remain upright and tall. “Mind? Darlin’ you might just get yourself a fan for life,” she said lightly – jokingly, playing from his earlier comment on being a celebrity. Without pause he drew even closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his skin like a furnace. He smelled of warmth, sweat, sand, and a richer, deeper scent she couldn’t quite name. They were of a similar height, though he would have easily won with a ruler by a few inches. "Can I have your autograph?" she teased in a terrible valley-girl mock. She took the moments he used to unhurriedly slice the curl, and consequently the twig, from her head to observe him closely. His skin was well tanned, and not an ounce of fat lay on his well-defined body. She had no idea what sort of man he was, but the lines around his eyes gave him a kind look that softened the unpredictability in his eyes. The Fallen were an interesting group – and here was their leader in the flesh. “Thank y’ kindly,” she said in almost a whisper. His gaze lifted to her face again, and held it a moment. He seemed to be searching for something before he grinned and stepped away, letting her brazen hair fall to the ground. My dad used to say that redheads were the Devil incarnate, and that they'd take your soul and all your money in the divorce. She laughed at that, really laughed. She’d heard many things similar in her lifetime but that one was the best. The pain in her side flared suddenly and she held it a moment. When she caught her breath her eyes flashed with happiness despite the pain – it changed her face, made her lighter somehow, less hazardous. “Well I guess it’s a good thang there ain’t no lawyers in the dome,” she said suggestively as her eyebrows lifted twice. Her expression turned thoughtful, but was back to a smile between one breath and the next. “Or priests.” Her palms settled on her wide hips, her belt buckle shining as her weight shifted and she scuffed a well-worn cowboy boot in the dirt. “And as far as The Devil Incarnate, I just go by Roma on ma’ days off.” Her tone was well humored and easy, the jest (or accusation) having stolen any apprehension or tenuous air from between the two of them like a vacuum. He’d made her laugh, really laugh. She’d reward the nice and very delicious looking hero. “An naw I ent here to bother ya’ none. I’m breaking that headcase there and figured sand would break the many falls my keister seems to accumulate from that volatile creature,” she said roundly and openly as if he had just asked her the question. When she said headcase her thumb jerked over her shoulder at the horse behind them, then swept the hair from her face. “I guess I didn’t reckon on the wonderful brush ya’ll got stock piled to break the falls instead.”

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

"Only if I get to choose where to write it." The comment slipped before Tom could think better of it. From the slightly abashed expression his face took on in the wake of the words it was clear that he had not meant to say them allowed... as it were, Tomas would not recall them, even if given the opportunity. The wicked flirtation was a leftover from his soldier days, when raunchy jokes were the norm if not the expected. So he gave another smile, all teeth, and allowed her to take it as she would. Regardless, Roma had passed her test, for the better or the worse. Tomas was impressed by the fact that she hadn't even flinched beneath his gaze, beneath his touch, and held her ground as resolutely as a boar until her laughter took hold, the kind of laughter that resonated from the stomach and clenched the muscles of the abdomen. Tomas could not help but join her, albeit with slightly less enthusiasm. He was a man who found more pleasure in causing others to laugh than by laughing himself, strangely enough.

The change that overcame her, then, was something that he had not anticipated. Until that moment he had viewed her as an undomesticated animal pretending, briefly, that it were tame. It had been clear to him from the wild look in her eyes that she would be as unpredictable as the mare behind her, despite all of their pretending. Her expression now bore resemblance, perhaps, to a younger woman outside the dome. It softened Tomas more than he would admit, for it seemed to him as though he had just viewed something intimate, something personal. "What about saints?" he teased, with a slightly narrowed look to his eyes. It made her more attractive, even, the way that she had laughed just then, with nothing held back. Tomas thought that too few people did such a thing in the Dome.

“And as far as The Devil Incarnate, I just go by Roma on ma’ days off.”

It was Tomas' turn to laugh. He tossed his head back, briefly, a slightly vain but lighthearted gesture. "So you admit it, then. As long as everything is in the open." The smile refused to abandon his face, even as his eyes locked on Dezba. It was the first time he truly assessed the animal. He had limited experience with horses; he knew that a newer member of the ring, Cole, had one, as well as a young woman named Adelina. He would not pretend knowing something that he did not. "Brave woman, you." The mare looked born and bred in the Menagerie, all rough edges and toughness. Tomas would not have liked to undertake the task of charming that creature... her rider, on the other hand, seemed a much more promising prospect.

With the though there, his eyes returned to Roma. He found himself looking at her as she had looked at him mere minutes prior. He could see the suggestion of curves beneath her clothing, which was more than most women in the Menagerie, who ate too little. It made his blood hot; he returned his gaze to her face, not with as much tact as she had done to him earlier, his cheeks flushed now with more from his run. He grinned, regardless, appreciating her honesty. "Yeah, desert's have got a way of being unpleasant no matter what." Tomas was proud to say that the Fallen survived where they did; it meant they had a resilience that no other's in the Menagerie could claim. The place had become his home.

He returned his attention to the horse, shifting closer to Roma as he gestured slowly to the mare. "So what's her name and what's the story? I gotta say you look like a southern girl. The boots and the accent didn't clue me in, either." He glanced at her sidelong, a little slyly. For the first time in a very long time, Tomas felt normal. He did not feel the pressures of being an alpha loom over his shoulders; he did not feel like he had to be a hero in that moment, merely a man, having a conversation with a beautiful woman. The most natural thing in the world.

[ROMA|RED]

Her fiery hair was sent bouncing as her head tossed back once with a smile and the roll of her eyes. “Brave? Most would say stupid, but thank you.” Roma’s head leaned to one side as his eyes dropped to scope her frame once before rising back up to meet her hazel brown gaze. Her eyebrows shot up once and the corners of her mouth pulled up in a small knowing smile. When he grinned she scrunched her nose at him. When he shifted to turn she did as well, and both drew closer to one another unconsciously – as if they were drifting together to view a painting. Said painting was no Mona Lisa, and in fact – held no interest in her human audience. The mare’s sparse tail licked her hocks as her ears flickered in irritation to chase a fly away. With Tom’s comments and questions, Roma turned to him once to flash a cutesy smile at him with pride. “Waco, Texas sugar born and raised,” she winked at him. However when she turned to look at the mare, her face grew almost stern, certainly thoughtful. Her chin lifted once toward the horse as she spoke of her. “Found her caught up in rope down south in the retro territories. Fought off a lion to save her thankless bee-hind. Thank God he was older than Moses, or I don’t thank she'd a' been as much of a problem for him as she is for me,” she chuckled humorlessly. “Name’s Dezba,” she said after a minute. The mare’s head lifted to spy Roma once (yes she knew her name all right) but when Roma neither began to move nor told her anything her head slung back in disinterested relaxation. They had a strange relationship. Tom’s mouth opened and he took a breath, but she knew what he was going to ask. “It’s Comanche,” she said quietly. She could feel his eyes on her, but just then she didn’t look back. Her head tilted slightly as if to hear something better, or that she might have been considering something. “Means, ‘going to war’,” she almost whispered. The moment hung in the air but a half a breath more before her brown eyes snapped to his face and she grinned. “Considerin’ how much she beats me up I thank it’s rather perfect. I mean really,” her hands went into her back pockets and she beamed at him. “The damn thing must thank I’m a punchin’ bag or’ sumthin’. But we'll get it right.” She'd get it right if it killed her, and it almost had a time or two. Despite the heat Roma had retained her jacket in interest of keeping the sun from burning her too badly, but beneath it her body was a canvas of black and blue. Aside from what she thought had to be at least bruised if not cracked ribs, she'd had a limp for almost a month from a bad fall, and her left wrist was weak. She'd been taking pains to hide what she could. Sister Wolf was oddly absent just then, her usual hovering presence only a faint ghosting in the back of her mind. Roma huffed an amused gust of air, "Hell it comes with the territory. Tons a' broken bones," she almost bragged. "What's a few more?" she asked in jest.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

The smile Tomas flashed in response was instantaneous and brilliant, illuminating that face of his with a sort of complete lightness. It showed his teeth and added wrinkles to the edges of his eyes, mischievous, knowing, filled with the impish delight of a young boy instead of a man. It made him look younger and fit him very well; however, the briefness of the expression seemed to suggest that he did not wear it often enough. "I think the only gross stupidity in this world is being afraid to live." No, he would not have called her stupid. Reckless, maybe, but from the way she spoke and carried herself she was far from an idiot. He listened to her intently, eyes ranging from the horse to the girl and back again. He relaxed more and more the longer he stood near her, which was stupidity in and of itself. Or living, the alpha could not help but think, with a tinge of bitterness added to his thoughts. It was the Menagerie that made simple conversations a matter of life and death; it was the Menagerie that pit them all against one another, as though they really were the animals that the Keepers advertised them to be. He ran a hand back through his hair, annoyed at its length, and continued to listen to her. He could not help but smirk at the nature of her story; and he also shook his head, bemused by the wildness and also extremely entertained. "If you ask me," Tomas began. "It sounds like this mare is more trouble than she's worth--and also, that name is very fitting Dezba." He repeated it, to get a feel for it on his tongue. "Roma... and Dezba. You never gave a last name, did you?" Tomas realized this now, later than liked. It was an old habit to immediately associate people with their last names--in the military it was all he referred to the majority of his comrades as. McKellar had been his name much longer than Tomas had been. The Menagerie, though, had a way of changing people's names just like it changed their natures. He smiled again, so wolfishly it would have done his father proud. "I think you like the challenge," he jested, pivoting to face her fully. He stepped nearer, so that his mere presence mimicked the word "challenge". They were close enough in height that Tomas did not have to crane his neck much to see her clearly--he stared down at the redhead, uncertain where his actions were leading him, until his tongue moved quicker than his thoughts. "What I normally do when I'm out here is take a swim. You kind of interrupted my plans, you know." It was a white lie, he would admit. Tomas' eyes challenged her now as he stepped backward, his skin speckled with the shadows of the trees. "What'dya say? Wanna stick around for a little while?" This was the farthest he had been from the Alpha of Fallen since he had become it. The leisurely backward step he took belonged to a younger him, full of juvenile flirtation and confidence.

[ROMA|RED]

His lips started moving again, and she focused on them for a long moment before they lifted to his eyes, watching the changes in his face. You never gave a last name, did you? There was so much about that sentence that was telling, but he let the subject fall aside as he stepped toward her. I think you like the challenge, he accused as he drew near as if embodying the very concept. Oh you have no idea, her mind quipped suggestively but strangely she said nothing and instead smiled and shrugged as if to say ‘guilty.’ They were having a conversation – a real conversation. They might have been anywhere, but they were here. They were trapped. She usually didn’t think about it, and it was an unwelcomed line of thought when she was having such fun. He more likely was up to something, but faith still held on to the notion that maybe, just maybe, shifters could still be people. The dismal mood had come and gone with the flicker of an eyelash, and her eyes lifted again to his, for they had wandered unseeing to his chest. What she found there was mischief of a completely different kind than she had seen perhaps ever. It was the mischief of a schoolmate wanting to pull the fire alarm and ditch school, instead of the mischief of wanting her on her back. It was infectious and her own grin mirrored his own. Regardless of initial intention, she stuck what she knew. “Oh I dunno cowboy, sounds like your tryin’ to get ma’ clothes off, but for swimming? I just might have to!” As he moved away into the shade of the trees he invited her to stay. He actually invited her to stay? It was the first time she had not been instantly chased off – and without a single consideration she took a side step and snagged her mare’s lead. “Lead the way el cap-i-taaan,” she said and followed him willingly. It just might be worth whatever trouble he was cooking up to swim. She hadn’t gotten to in Lord knew how long, As he turned and headed out, her pace did not flag as mid-stride one foot caught the edge of a log and she vaulted herself onto the mare's back smoothly, and squeezed her sides to move Dezba forward at a hasty trot. Soon, she was parallel to Tom and she offered him a wicked smile. Good luck leaving them behind! She'd had taken point, but did not know where it was that they were headed. Instead she played a half game of catch-me as he started moving swiftly through the trees and out into the open sand. The sun was harsh, and Dezba labored through the sand more easily than another horse might have. She'd been out here before. She was diligent, and when they reached a peak Roma halted the hard breathing mare to spy a body of water and palm trees in what could only be called an Oasis. She felt Tom's eyes on her once more, but as her head turned he looked back to the scene below and began to make his way down the dune. The trip had not been long, but already she was sweating heavily from the heat. She guided Dezba down to follow the Alpha, and when she thought her eyes were going to frizzle out of their sockets they finally caught the shade from the first palm tree. “Thank the Lord. It's hotter n' hades out here, idinit?” she said and swung her legs as she dismounted from the mare's bare back. "Good thang we made it, too much longer and I'd of had to cancel your birth certificate!" she caught his surprised and slightly confused expression and she laughed. "Means I'da killed ja," she teased with devilish grin.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

"I can't even argue, 'cept it means my clothes are coming off too." He winked, despite the fact that such a concept had not been his original intention. Tomas simply wanted to play, wanted to relax. He enjoyed goading her. "But c'mon, you know its just the goddamn heat." It was a game, certainly, and it was of the utmost danger. They danced upon a razor's edge, between acceptable and unacceptable, between life and death. It did not matter, at least not then, and Tomas' heart beat quick with the fearful unknown. It did not surprise him, for whatever reason, when she came came beside him on horseback. Tomas glanced at her sidelong, appreciatively and perhaps with a small amount of exasperation, or bewilderment. He contemplated transforming into an elk just so he didn't feel so small but quickly dismissed the idea. They were playing at human, after all, and so he would continue to adhere to the unspoken agreement--they were not animals right then, just people, and for whatever reason Tomas felt that if he were to shift it would ruin the illusion. He was quiet for the majority of the trip, his breathing brisk but not labored. He had become adept at navigating the desert, the muscles in his legs long-since wired to move up and down dunes with relative ease. He had begun to sweat again, regardless, and the skin of his cheeks was flushed scarlet. The oasis, therefore, was a very welcomed sight for all of them. He glanced at her sharply when her comment was delivered, somewhat alarmed. "What? You wouldn't even take me out on a date first? That's awfully cold-hearted!" His look matched her own. Tomas did not waste more time than that, however. He loped easily to the edge of the oasis, falling backward onto his haunches as he unlaced his boots and removed them meticulously. He set them side-by-side, socks inserted into them, laces tucked in neatly. The entire show was extremely careful and it did something to demonstrate what sort of person he was. He turned to glance at Roma once the job had been completed, his eyes bright with the sun and with his good humor, both. "I hope you aren't afraid of getting wet," his mouth curled, a smile that was perhaps slightly lewd. He stood nimbly and kicked water in her direction, stepping backward until he was knee-deep in the oasis and challenging her with his rather smug grin. ""

[ROMA|RED]

She returned his comment about a date with a scrunched nose that might have been ‘ew’ if not for the curled up edges of her mouth in humor. “I’ve killed for a lot less,” she bragged … and lied. The lilt of her claim washed out any hint of falseness, leaving only the playful reminder that he did not know her, and she did not know him. The taste was not of a warning nature, nor to prompt him that he should watch himself around her. Rather, it was the tease a girl might have said to a boy about chewing popcorn too loudly. Playful. It was something Roma seemed to be unique in. Not that others could not be playful. Most if not all of the shifters and retros she had come across were killers. She bet Tom was a killer. The fact was not something that really bothered her, rather it was an inconvenient truth that Roma herself was not part of. Roma … had never even hit someone, let alone killed them. Here, confidence meant that you could handle yourself, and she could – so could Sister. However, as a result most people treated her more harshly and mistrustfully because of it, as if her poise was a direct result of the threat she represented. It was often that she had been forced to manipulate or seduce others to remain intact. Her sexual appeal had gotten her out of a lot of hot water over the past couple years, and if she had been trouble before being thrown into this dome of chaotic shape shifting hell had made her a downright jezebel. It was different when your life hung in the balance. Tom wasn’t like that, or at least, not so far and it fascinated her. It wasn’t that he trusted her – he didn’t know her so how could he? But he didn’t treat her like she might shift into a thirty foot tyrannosaurus rex and eat him either. He also was unassuming. His play might have reminded her of RJ when he was being sweet to her, however Tom didn’t treat her like a sure thing. This also fascinated her. Her hands rested on her hips as she looked around. It was an interesting hide-out, who knew there was an entire body of water here? The Fallen, the Fallen knew. She bet this was where they often bathed and got their water or just relaxed here. Though she had never been in their camp, she had seen it from a (very) far distance once and it was obvious why they would have chosen the Express to house most of their people, despite the Oasis having easier access to water. There was an ability to defend there so much more than here. There were train cars she was almost positive they used for rooms, whereas out here they would be living in tents. The Express was far safer bar none. From the corner of her gaze while rubbernecking she saw Tom lower to the ground, and plant is lovely rear end into the sand. Her head tilted curiously as he began to shed his shoes with patient deliberation. Slowly, she began to smile the longer she watched him, and she drew alongside the seated man as he fussed with his laces and folded and nit-picked with his socks. He rose to his feet, and half-clothed backed into the water until it swirled around his knees. Her hand flattened out to shade her hazel eyes as she watched him a long moment. I hope you aren’t afraid of getting wet, he dared. All thoughts of vulgar meaning were entirely omitted from the look in his bright, amused eyes. Her lashed flickered inanely as her hand lowered and she realized … she might be the one in trouble. The next instant the consideration was brushed aside as her eyebrow lifted and she gave him roguish smile in answer. With rapid precision and remarkably unceremonious style, she unbuttoned her belt then jeans and wiggled her hips from side to side. The weight of her belt permitted her pants to drop to the sand as simultaneously she peeled off her jacket, and pulled her once white shirt over her head. One heel shifted to catch the other and she stepped out of her boot and pant leg. Slipping off the sock with her fingers she dropped it in the boot, then used her bare toes to heel out of the other boot and gave her second sock the same treatment. Once done, her cowboy boots were housed by her jeans – all she’d have to do is step into the boots and pull up her pants. She’d picked up the habit years ago before the Menagerie. She dropped her jacket to the sand and her shirt atop it. Her undies had seen better days as had her bra, but then again Roma had too. If her face, neck, and arms were tan her alabaster legs and feet looked as if they’d never seen the sun. Freckles besieged her skin regardless, as numerous across her skin as the stars in the sky; And what a sky, for her skin was canvased with countless bruises ranging from warm yellow to deep blue-black. Scars of every shape, size, and concern covered her physique. Despite that, her frame was unconventional. Her shoulders were broad like a swimmer’s, and well formed in her upper arms – suggesting upper body strength odd for a woman. Her body stubbornly hung onto her once generous curves, and even now it seemed hunger in the Menagerie had not completely chased them away. All told, she looked as though she’d been well fed and well worked all her life. Her body was functional and durable as opposed to willowy and beautiful. With a toss of her red curls she sighed with satisfaction. She was as comfortable with clothes as without. It was her boots he usually missed, but she wouldn’t risk the leather in the water anymore than she could help. It would be a bitch to find replacements in this hell hole. Any look or reaction the man might have had were utterly ignored as with confidence she strode straight into the water, and plunged in head first a few feet away from Tom. No waiting to get use to the temperature, no testing its depths. It was a tell of her own style – all or nothing. It was almost a full minute before she resurfaced and when she did so she gasped for air, and immediately crowed with laughter then grinned at Tom. “Holy Hannah I needed that!” she cried. She was deeper in the water than Tom and as she stood the water came up to her neck. Her head bobbed as her feet kicked here and there to draw nearer. “Ya’ll must come here all the time, it’s beautiful,” she said as her voice deepened in sincerity. It really was, especially after all that sand. She was use to the desert, but that didn’t mean it was her favorite element to tolerate.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

It was an complicated game he played; perhaps it was due to being a complicated man. Roma had already seen the surface of that complexity; the quick transition from soldier to child, from harmful to harmless. He humored her with a bright smile, words remaining unsaid. Killing was not a joke to Tomas, who had done too much of it, and thus he allowed the topic to slip from mind rather than darken it.  The two regarded one another, then. Tomas in the water and she on the sand. His expression remained quirked boyishly, amused, perhaps even innocent. That expression slackened as she began to remove her clothing, piece by piece, and perhaps a little interestingly. He had seen beautiful women. He had seen many of them, in fact, and so Roma should have been nothing intriguing to him. But she was, in her lack of conventional beauty. She was worn, beaten, bruised. He suspected that Dezba may have had something to do with the mottled nature of the redhead's skin. Perhaps it was the confidence with which she showed herself that Tomas felt attraction toward; but he saw no ugliness in her scars or the musculature of her shoulders. Where some women were thin, Roma wore her curves well and proudly, as though to say this is me. He was broken from his appreciative trance only when she leaped into the waters besides him. He was unceremoniously splashed and long before she emerged Tomas was laughing. He was beginning to grow concerned by the time she, at last, broke the surface. He turned to face her and waded waist-deep into the oasis, regarding her with a smug smile. He granted him pleasure to see someone else happy, especially someone who did not seem to get enough of that happiness in the Menagerie. He could not imagine life as a rogue, try as he may.  It would be too lonely. "It's definitely a nice change," he replied and splashed water weakly in her direction. It was a playful gesture. Tomas took after her example, then, and dove deeper into the oasis. He submerged himself, moving downward until he could touch the sand with his hands. Then he kicked himself back toward the surface, dangerously near Roma. They did not touch. Not yet. "I don't come out here very often though. Too busy, with more important things to do." That was the life of a leader, after all. He grinned anyway. "But yes, a lot of Fallen come out here, especially the younger ones. Where do you go, to relax?" Tomas was genuinely curious, merely due to the fact that he wondered if she ever relaxed.

[ROMA|RED]

She was comfortable here in the water. Much more comfortable than if they were in an actual pool. The only times she had been in a real honest to God swimming pool was when she and some of her friends had snuck into the wealthy neighbor’s house on hot summer nights. It had been fun to pretend it was them that owned the house, but they had been on edge the entire time – as if any moment the police would find them. It was a rush and at the time it was great fun. He splashed the water at her gently and some droplets landed on her cheek. She blinked in surprise. Normally she would have retaliated, splashing as hard as she could but something held her back and she smiled as he dove under the water. That was the way of it or, at least back home it usually was. If someone did something to mess with you, it was full force or risk getting more of the same but something here was different … and she didn’t want to ruin it. Not yet. Roma’s toes bounced lightly on the sand under the water as she looked around for Tom to resurface. She couldn’t help the paranoid thoughts that he was going to drag her underwater. Her arms fanned back and forth as she twisted this way and that, trying in vain to see if she could spot him. Eventually he turned up, popping out of the water like a cork quite near her and she laughed aloud, cracking another smile as he tread the water and drew nearer to her. He was so tan and his brown hair was even darker now, almost black, as he slicked it back from his bright blue eyes. Her own eyes roved over his features as he spoke, and her fingers twitched with a desire to touch the stubble on his face. Not that it was unusual for her to do whatever she pleased, especially around men that wouldn’t have stopped her, but something about him made her want to be – different. Where do you go to relax? He asked, and immediately her mind went to the pasture back home. She blinked, thinking on the cool spring days she would lay in the waist length grass – hidden from the view of all except the herd. The horses would snuffle and graze around her, and she’d nap and watch the stars come out, completely at peace. A drop of water fell from her lash and she looked down, broken from the mini daze and she chuffed a gust of air through a smile. “Oh here an’ there,” she said lamely. Her eyes squinted as she looked up to the sun, yearning to see that Texas sky again, but she never would. Damn she usually lied better, and she looked back to Tom with a real smile that reached her eyes. “Here,” she said with humor and a shrug. The single word held no intentions or future expectations, rather it was a gratefulness for Now. A silent thank you she rarely gave. This was getting too serious. Unexpectedly she splashed water at him again a touch more vigorously than Tom had at her a few minutes before, and her eyebrows jumped once with mischief. “Besides, I can relax when I’m six feet under!” She winked and stole a large breath before diving under the water. She popped back up behind him a moment later and pointed as she called breathlessly, “Race you to the rock!” Shamelessly she started off without warning, and it wasn’t before her second stroke that she heard a splash and movement behind her. Roma was a decent swimmer, but it seemed to take Tom little effort to steadily pass her. Diligently she kept on, even after he his palm slapped the rock and he called out his victory. When she reached it herself, she tread the water with her arms and feet and looked up with a smile. He had climbed the rock and was smiling down at her with his hands on his hips. She waited for the string of egotistical witticism to start about him being so great because he was a man, call her a cheater, or brag about his athletic abilities but he didn’t. Instead, he reached down to give her a hand. She stared in surprise, and when she didn’t take it he merely leaned over more, sticking his fingers out an inch or so further to be more easily reached. Slowly her hand lifted from the water and without hesitation he snagged it and all but hauled her straight up. Her toes caught on the edge of the rock but he did not leg go until she had two feet firmly planted. Once settled he released her and his attention lifted to the horizon and pointed to show her something. Her gaze followed where he indicated, and almost without her own notice the hand that he had held flexed at her side as if it suddenly didn't feel quite right.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

Tomas knew too much of longing to not recognize it in another. To see it so clear and so brief upon her face made him want to pursue the topic and force an answer from her lips, a thought that rarely crossed him. Tomas allowed others their privacy, typically making it clear that he would not disturb them but that he would remain there if he were needed. In this case, he wanted to ask more, he wanted an answer but he choked the urge down. He allowed it to go unaddressed, instead answering her smile with a gentle one of his own. "I do love to be accommodating,"  replied the alpha. He thought about kissing her. If he had been a younger him, he would have. Something restrained him and he was glad when she broke the connection with a splash of water and a sudden challenge. Her head start did her little job as Tomas reacted, as though upon an order. He had always hated swimming, if he were to be honest. It was his least favorite of sports despite having participated in varsity for the majority of high-school. His father had demanded it of him and now it was mechanical, the thoughtless freestyle of a man who had done such a race many times before. What he loved about swimming, however, was that even a millisecond could determine a winner. He did not truly realize his destination until he reached it and, when he did, he smiled widely. He could hardly get her out of the water quickly enough, pivoting on a heel to haul her up beside him. Her hesitation meant little to him. He spun her to face the same direction he had been, allowing his hands to linger momentarily on her strong shoulders. He then gestured very specifically forward, through the trees and toward the horizon. It was beautiful. The sky was a blue so deep that it hurt and the clouds that scattered the sky moved breezily, lightly, the sun as brilliant as bullion was rich and gold. He knew it was artificial; in that moment, with the water cool on his skin, it did not matter. He knew the way to his home anywhere and he shared it now. "That's the direction of Fallen." he informed her, perhaps a little proudly. His grin was again that of a young boy. "You see that smoke?" It was late enough now that they were beginning to start the fires, where the catches of the day would be cooked and the camp would be fed. He wanted to share that with her, thinking again of that look of longing upon her face and the loneliness he would feel in her position. It was merely in his nature to offer safety, comfort, and Tomas was almost overwhelmed by his desire to give her something that would truly be of comfort. Or, at least, as close as was achievable in the Menagerie. "Hunters are bringing in their catches, and they're about to start eating. Those are campfires. It's really great--I mean, people bring guitars and play music and dance and sing. Everyone tells stories or plays cards or... there is so much life." He spoke in the passionate way a man does when it is about something he loves. "Come for tonight. No consequences, no commitment. You can be my guest and I can promise you a safe place to sleep and a full stomach." That, in and of itself, was something never guaranteed in the Menagerie. It was the most sincere kindness he could offer and the look he gave her was one of genuine concern and want. It was not of the lustful kind, merely the hopeful.

[ROMA|RED]

Her eyes lifted to the beautiful sunset, and she smiled. Where once the water had been a cooling reprieve from the heat she now trembled a little. It was getting a little cold. Or, perhaps it was a response engineered by that part of her that was uncomfortable with stable honesty from a male. Automatically, her shoulders hunched and her hands rose to tuck under her chin as Tom spoke about his people. She’d never really considered what Ring life somewhere else would be like. Once upon a time she had been briefly part of the Fulsi, but it had proved to be a bad fit. Sister had gotten them out of there within the month, and she remembered little of it to begin with. In her mind, there were kids laughing in the Fallen and chasing each other and warm smiles. For the first time in hours Sister surged to the fore – Danger. She said. Too many people, and it wasn’t a fourth of July picnic anywhere in the Menagerie. It was a bad combination for the reclusive red wolf and the gregarious red head. Roma missed people, missed the feeling of family. She missed her mom, and her little sister in that moment an she ached to be with them. The cerulean sky reflected in her eyes as her thoughts were interrupted by the most startling thing she had heard in a long time. Come for tonight. No consequences, no commitment. You can be my guest and I can promise you a safe place to sleep and a full stomach. The surprised looked she turned to him as her lashes flicked in realization was almost intimate. The rock was large but the surface was sparse, forcing them close enough together that their hips touched. Just now, she could feel an inviting heat from his skin and she made the mistake of looking at his gaze. His expression sobered immediately and the intensity in his eyes shifted from hope to longing. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, and her lips parted. Where did the air go? It was suddenly hard to breathe. It was as if there were magnets anchored then, pulling her mouth to his without the ability to stop it. She didn’t want to. Slowly she gave in, and carefully and cautiously she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. Not a single part of her touched him in that instant save her uncharacteristically trepidatious and gentle kiss.

[TOMAS MCKELLAR]

He did not expect to find what he did. Tom could not name the emotion, not really. He simply knew what it felt like, for himself, the slipping of control and the sudden want for something that he shouldn't have had. A fight, brief as it may have been, as their eyes remained locked. He could not look away and he marveled at the clear, homely brown of her irises. If he looked close enough in the sun they almost appeared gold. He thought fiercely of closing the distance between them, on acting upon a young and innate urge. He wanted to touch her but Tomas knew better. He respected her too much for that and so he stood there, touching only with his eyes, relishing the heat of her distant skin and wanting so badly to close the distance that seemed so vast and strange. Luckily, he did not have to. She neared him. As slow as the lazy tide of the ocean on a hot summer day, a careful and gentle rush. Her lips brushed his and he watched her through a half-lidded gaze, returning the gesture with just as much care and gentleness. He could not shake the sense that Roma was more breakable than she would ever be willing to admit; he had seen a flash of that weakness when he had asked her where it was she went to relax and now, now he tasted it on her mouth. His hand rose tentatively to her hip, the brush of his calloused hands shy and soft. Tomas did not attempt to touch her more than that despite wanting to very, very badly. Tomas pulled back slightly but maintained that intimate distance, nearly speaking against her lips. He though to a thousand things to say but said none of them. He wanted to tell her that this was not what he meant when he had said he could give her a place to stay, a warm bed. Instead he began with, "Come?" It was not an order but a request. His hand abandoned her waist to find her fingers, instead, and he pulled back to lead her toward the shore. He wanted, very badly, to show her his home. Tomas didn't know why he felt so passionately about it. Perhaps it was because he knew she didn't have one, and already his heart was reaching out toward her as surely as it was able. It was in his nature... that, however, did not prevent his lips from burning with the memory of her kiss.