Desolate Sanctuary... [Jovi]

[mo money]

[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=242322] the world you  p r o m i s e d  me

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It had been such a crazed past couple of weeks; his mind was frayed and disoriented, every thought that once was sharp and clear became fuddled and stumbled and swam through an ocean of hazed thoughts, half formed ideas and undeniable agony. Amongst that one secular emotion there were thousands of others, conflicting; though, this he was used to. To feeling every emotion he was able to feel at every exact moment in his life, reviewing each memory or thought he'd ever had, yet contemplating the existence and situation of here and now. It was truly an unheard of feat, to master this vast and seemingly unending mind, to harness it. Sure. Believe what you want.

Boni had wandered in the desert heat for days now, his stomach hungry and his throat dry - alas, not much had changed. That was always how your body was in The Menagerie. A pest that growled and complained of hunger and a plaguing desire for the ice cool liquid that would always be lukewarm. But, it being winter and Bonifacio being a man who preferred the warmth, he had sought out some facet of it. The desert would suit him, though it was a place of extremes he knew that it would be much better than freezing to death (which he might very well do at night, but that is another story entirely). Long, ratty slacked legs took him slowly, yet surely, in a meandering pace through the scorching desert sands, his feet smothered in some cheap leather dress shoes. Not ideal for travel, but it was a necessity for him to feel at ease in style, whether he truly felt at ease or not. He just had to look the part.

So, he tried his best to carry himself with dignity, but, try as he might he could not lift his feet, so heavy were his thoughts. His head hung low, shoulders slumped as his arms swung carelessly as he moved, a languid and smooth motion that every now and again stumbled helplessly. He came across a rattlesnake, and though not familiar with it's poison or facts, he skirted around the obviously dangerous beast, resisting the animal urge to strike out and fight the serpent. Blasted mongoose DNA, curse the day he ever found out he was a shifter at all!

Hours later found him traversing the same wild path; deserted and unknown, alone and shrouded in a veil of discord. Ngh. This is tiresome work, he thought, dark blue eyes hazing over as his vision blurred, cleared, then blurred again till everything before him was a solid blur of orange and blue, sand and sky. He fumbled for the thick rimmed glasses in his front coat pocket and placed them on his straight, pointed nose, the strong rectangular rims black. He grumbled something about 'Keepers' under his breath, realizing how common he sounded, but continued on.

He made it through the desert, through the forest...across the shallow river...

Just as he thought he could take not a singe step further - just as it was nearing evening time, around five in the afternoon (judging by the false sun in the false sky) he caught in his desperate sight a cabin! As he ran toward it, laughing and stumbling carelessly, he didn't think to look for enemies nor danger. All he cared for was somewhere to rest his weary body!

He entered the cabin, slowly, cautiously, working his way through the old, dusty house. Bonifacio began the tedious and daunting task of organizing that chaotic mess of a mind that he called his brain. He sought out a small room, with a window that let the light seep in and warm his face. And so he sat, long legs folded into that comfortable cross-legged fashion, palms facing towards the heaven as they rested on his knees. His back was straight and his head erect, glasses were now tucked neatly in his front pocket and his eyes had drifted closed. His breathing soon became soft and regular, deep but barely audible. And so the meditation began, in this peaceful haven, and he hoped only to come out of this ordeal with his sanity in tact, as he faced his guilt and the worse of his fears - himself.

ooc; wheee recycled / edited post!

has  f o r s a k e n  me

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[jovie]

Oh, God! Oh, God!

The wind rushed past her flushed face as she darted through the woods, in the same direction as he. However, it was a considerable amount of time later that she passed through it. Shit! Her soul screamed and she darted about half way through the river before tripping on one of the rocks, losing her grace suddenly. Though it was shallow, it was enough to take her under for a few moments. She came up soaking wet and gasping for breath, looking around but not behind her before jumping to her feet and running more and more. So tired. She knew her knees just wanted to give out, but she wouldn't allow it. She would not let this happen! Never! Not again. Not so soon. Not here and not now. Her chest heaved for air frantically as though someone had taken a punch at her gut. It was clear she'd been at this for awhile. It was a mad chase. She refused to lose. The effect of the icey waters, the wind, and the snow was having it's effect on her. Oh, God. So tired. She shook it off. Fight! Her mind screamed, motivating her to run faster as her creamy colored skin changed to a hypothermic white. Her hair was dripping and frozen and her soaked clothes slowed her down.

But a cabin of sorts was ahead! In her mind, it was a glowing sanctuary, something heaven sent. She couldn't fall in the snow or faulter in her run, because she knew she wouldn't get back up. So she ran until she was coughing before she reached this little house. She looked over her shoulder in a panic, cursing again and again as her hands slid over the knob and she could get it open. A few more tries and she ran through the door, looking for any other room that looked safe. She ran through another door, only to come apon Bonifacio. Jovi jumped back, startled, and making an animalistic squeak before hitting her head on the side of the door from trying to back out. With one hand holding her head and the other in a stance to run, she wasn't sure what was more frightening - what she'd been running from, or this tranquil looking man here. She'd certainly broken this room of tranquility. Water was dripping off her immensely, and already there was a small pool of water at her feet.

Wet hair clung to her frost-bitten cheeks as she looked over her shoulder and back at him before staying put, unable to decide. Terrified, she backed up into one of the corners and compressed her body against the wall. Right now, this man wasn't her greatest problem. With her chest still rising and falling excitedly, the warmth of the room faught with the dreadfully low temperature of her body, and in only moments she was shivering, each delicate limb of her quivering like a leaf. The most startling part of this awful mess that was so absolutely her were those eyes. They were so beyond frightened and crazed, animalistic glances from Bonifacio to the door. Still, she wasn't one to be approached and that was clear. Those glances were also deadly. If she could, she would kill him. It was written on her face. "Calma. No mueva." Quiet. Do not move. She gasped out the words. The oddest thing, of course, was that there was nothing coming through the door. There had been nothing chasing her to begin with. She could feel that her energy was just about drained now, so she made it look like she intentionally wanted to sit down, sliding down the wall till her knees were by her chest. She parted her lips as though she wanted to say something else, but her body and voice did not allow it. Instead, she watched him warily, caution set to high as was usual for her. This was probably the very last person on earth Bonifacio would ever want to associate with.

[Bonifacio Russovo [RIP]]

[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=242322] the world you  p r o m i s e d  me

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Have you ever felt that somewhere deep inside your mind, there was another world that you could seep into? When reality was too harsh, and when reality had forsaken you, did you ever simply wish you had sanctuary in which to hide your face, to breathe in your few joys and exhale your sorrows, let them blow away on the breeze? He could feel the sporadic twitch or two of the scarred tissue on his face, the trenches of family warfare that were now carved upon his chiseled face made others draw back in fear or dismay. What kind of man must he be, to receive such a punishment? Why had his god been so cruel? The questions slapped him in the face, time and time again, cold hands calloused and cruel; never soft, never tender. Never affectionate. And so he fled, fled deep within - to this sanctuary, oh yes, that he had learned to call home.

But now - even now - this place was not safe. It was a sanctuary of hollowed dreams and desolate hopes. Before him lay the deep, dark graves of those he had ever loved. Calogero, his father. The man who had given him these scars, the man whom he had hated for a number of years. The man who's death he was responsible for, and now, the man he missed the most. Adelina, his mother. Kind, caring, and the last hand to touch his scarred cheeks with love in her eyes and warmth on her finger tips. Desidero, his brother. They had never gotten along well, but there was a deep love between them behind all the competition. If it had not been for him, Desi would still be alive instead of buried in some nameless grave in the Menagerie. Laurent, his closest friend. The small, gentle Frenchman who bore scars of his past, just as he. Had he not befriended the poor fellow, had he not fallen for her, and had he not confronted Laurent about following the wiles of his heart, he would still be alive. Had they not fallen from the tower so high in attempts to rescue her, Laurent's warm smile would be here to greet him still today. Royale...he had found her body weeks prior on a scouting mission. Emaciated and torn to shreds, bloating and putrefying in the infested waters of Blackwater Sound. Perhaps it was not he who had made the final blow, but even in those blue eyes, now coated with white mist, showed a deep and sorrowful pain.

There resided in him an immense sea of guilt, vast expanse of torrid waters that churned and tossed his fragile thoughts about, leading him blindly in the darkness, not a beacon of light to be seen or even hoped for. He attempted to navigate this empty sea that even now seemed so filed with hatred and death, yet at the same moment love and light. And as he steered his thoughts quietly, solemnly, a noise disturbed his distilled and chaotic serenity. A body bursting into the room, deep, ragged breaths. He tried to ignore it, the heaving of a chest as air squeezed desperately into lungs. But then, a voice snarled something in his direction, a short guttural spurt of Spanish. A language he understood well and spoke fluently. "Calma. No mueva." The voice was low and threatening, but feminine. Still, his eyes did not flicker open as he sought for the way back to conscientious thought.

"¿Estás bien?" Are you alright? He muttered in reply, a navy blue eye flickering open to observe her, chest heaving and body dripping with water, shaking and shuddering. "Usted está frío." You are cold. He noted simply, the left eye popping open as he turned his head slightly to observer her closer. "Ven, te daré mi abrigo." Come, I'll give you my jacket. Bonifacio moved with slow, sure movements, keeping his eyes moving from the door to her. As she slid warily to the ground he stood, slowly, and walked towards her, though remained at least ten feet away. Tossing the jacket to her, he retreated back to his corner, nodding encouragingly to her to accept the jacket and get some warmth. A few moments passed, and he released a soft sigh of relief as not beastly stranger came bursting through the door. One of the long, jagged scars on his cheeks flinched as she watched him, tense and wary. Bonifacio smiled softly, a gentle, warm grin that seemed to add a bit of warmth to the room itself.
"¿Perdón ...pero...qué es lo que huir de la?" Pardon me, but what are you running from?

has  f o r s a k e n  me

ooc; blah blah ignore the improper grammar of the translated spanish, it's from an online translator x3[/color]
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[jovie]

Her eyes widened as he moved, watching each of his graceful steps with a cat-like preciseness. She could easily fool that she morphed into something much more threatening than say...a ladybug. He didn't come more than ten feet away. Smart boy. She knew any closer and she would have jumped him if her legs allowed her the energy. Even as he threw her the jacket, she remained stoic, nothing but her piercing eyes following his form. He was a polite one, she noted, and he knew better than to come to close. She glared at the jacket as though it were foreign, her acute eye sight watching his face, gazing at the scars. Her stoic face fell brokenly, the first expression she'd accidentally mustered in a long time. The look was gone as soon as it came and she looked at the jacket again, feeling that it was becoming work just to hold her head up. But the girl was a fighter and this wasn't a challenge for her. She turned around, facing the corner and peeled the soaked clothing from her torso.

The sight he'd see on her bare back was something else. Not only had she always struggled with emaciation, but the amount of scars that littered her back was mind-boggling. "Las personas. Ellos nos agarran, y ellos venden inocencia como ellos vende ganado. Usted es guarda, pero nosotros no somos." The people. They catch us, and they sell innocence like they sell livestock. You are safe, but we are not. She explained to him quietly with an emotionless, monotone voice. Her virginity was sacred like nothing else had ever been to her. She'd faught all her life for it, was beaten and battered for it. It was a miracle she had contained it, and she couldn't help but relive the moments in her random everyday life. She couldn't come to terms with why she felt compelled to explain it. Perhaps it was his courtesy, that she had no reason to break his wrist yet. But that was yet...

She slipped the jacket over her shoulders and zipped it to just below her chin. Since the jacket was a baggy dress on her, she stripped out of the jeans aswell, noting that the jacket did cover everything and more. She wasn't short, but quite slender and delicate compared to him. She gathered the wet clothing, standing carefully to her feet though her breath caught in her throat. It took her a moment to completely compose herself before stepping to a small sort of coffee table and draping the clothes over them. She returned to the corner, the opposite of his. Of course, all the while she was watching him like a cobra before the kill. She gratefully sat back in the corner, her body screaming a thank you for the rest. "House is the your's?" She shivered, curling up against the corner but not laying down. Her hands were hidden in the length of the sleeves and she pulled them close to her chest, breathing in his sweet scent and greedily taking in the warmth. Such warmth sent her body in a bit of a shivering frenzy before it finally settled, and the shivers were gone. Still, it left her just a little more tired.

"¿La meditación? Usted tiene un genio... ¿Por qué medita usted?" Meditation? You have a temper... Why do you meditate? She accused in a snappy manner. It seemed there wasn't an ounce of trust left in the girl, but hey, she had trusted him enough to stay in the room so far. Then again, perhaps she was just selfish - and she preferred this over what waited for her outside. Her accusation was a serious one and his answer would need to be careful in order to keep her in her spot, leaving him unharmed for so long. Yes, she had an ego for her strength. She had to these days. It was likely he was stronger but she thought no such thing in her mind. She took the next moment to actually look him over. Everything from his neatly kept hair to his vibrant eyes had her eyes wandering further to his decently muscled form. For the first time, she looked away from him. That hair wouldn't remain neat if she had something to do with it. Yet she was slightly confused and embarrassed by her thoughts and it took awhile before her dangerous gaze fell upon him again, composing her mentality once more. She was sure not to look at those eyes though...

[Bonifacio Russovo [RIP]]

[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=242322] the world you  p r o m i s e d  me

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He watched her carefully, thoughtfully, navy eyes dark and his face stoic as always. She seemed to avoid his gaze, but when she saw the scars upon his face, her expression flashed some unreadable emotion, then quickly recovered. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered her reaction, confused as to whether he should be hurt by the flicker or pleased - perhaps it was a bit of both, but he tried to resist a smile at the progress. He was an odd one, always confusing his emotions as each and every possible feeling passed through his mind continuously, never letting him rest.

He glanced away as she undressed, though a change in the pale color of her skin drew his eyes back, and the ghastly sight that met his dark eyes greedily dragged the breath from his lungs. "Mio Dio..." he breathed, his voice coming out a haggard rasp as his eyes filled with a sudden anger, a sudden knowing. His fingers twitched as his legs forced him into a standing position, resisting the growing desire to take the little woman in his arms and protect her from the world, from her past, that according to her words, still haunted her. He took a silent step, extending a hand and reaching out to her before realizing what he was doing. Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and followed her sluggish movements with his eyes, wishing only to hold her close.

He had felt this several times before - in the Menagerie, many of the women came bitter and broken, emerging a dark and shattered soul, refusing to let themselves fall into the age old patterns of abuse and of violence. He had comforted many of these women, though only one other compared to the likes of Jovi - so broken, so utterly broken. And yet even the girl could not compare to Jovi, the scars that dug cruelly into her back, carving deep trenches into the delicate curves of her back. "Mio dio..." he repeated, still in disbelief. He wondered how she had dealt with such a thing, more importantly, how someone had dared to challenge the sanctity of life by beating and whipping this living soul. Her words hit him hard and left him desperate. Men who sold the innocence of young girls. Disgusted, he turned away, walking to the window, trying to drive the images that flickered through his mind away.

He could only imagine the pain she must have felt, the despair she wallowed in - but, no - she seemed stronger, despite the shuddering and shivering, she was hostile, aggressive and would obviously not back down. She would soon learn that she need not be on guard with him, though he should learn not to turn his back to anyone in the Menagerie. He trusted her already, as he did with most of the women he met. Boni was a trusting soul, and though the years in this place had worn him nearly to tired, tired bone, he managed to cling onto some of the few values he had left. He was a murderer, a life-taker, a criminal, a thief...but he was honest, and loving, and caring, and he would fight till the end for what he held in highest regard - ensuring the safety and the care of those who were less lucky than he. To have a sound mind...at this, he chuckled, bemused by the irony of his own thoughts. He was trying to help others only to help himself. How selfish he was.

"No," he replied softly after a few moments of silence, still leaning against the ivy shrouded windowsill. "Nothing here belongs to us." He regarding her hostile words lightly, not taking them to heart as he usually did. She was so aggressive, it almost amused him. He was used to females of this persuasion, though he did not show his bemused grin lest she think he was mocking her. "Mi meditación para calmar mis nervios, no mi temperamento. Soy un hombre complicado, que lucha constantemente con pensamientos que nunca detener. No pensamientos de violencia, pero de culpabilidad y la culpa y de dolor." I meditate to calm my nerves, not my temper. I am a complicated man, who fights constantly with thoughts that never stop. Not thoughts of violence, but ones of guilt and blame and of pain. He looked back at her, over his shoulder. "Pero supongo que sabe de estos pensamientos." But I suppose you know of these thoughts.

"Me llamo Bonifacio Russovo," He paused, looking out the window to the forest beyond. "¿Cómo se llama usted?"

ooc; LOLSfailspanish~

has  f o r s a k e n  me

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[jovie]

He advanced forward, though hardly. It was enough to send her sharply to her feet, little hands balling up in fists. He knew better though. She'd already calculated that. Instead of striking on the spot, she waited. Sure enough he backed away and walked towards the window. Was the idea really that disturbing? It was quite common where she came from. She'd simply dedicated her life to avoiding what every other girl was destined to. Clearly it had caused her alot of trouble, but she believed deeply it was worth it. The silence spoke louder than anything else and she waited, watching and listening for anything to escape his lips. Nothing. Perhaps he was insulted. Curiousity over took her and she stepped towards him. Maybe he would not see her, looking out the window as he did, but she knew he would sense it. She stopped four feet away from him, which in her mind was stupidly and dangerously close... "Usted me entiende mal. Yo no estoy impotente. Yo no necesito la protección. Y yo ciertamente más no estoy atemorizado." You misunderstand me. I am not helpless. I do not need protection. And I am most certainly not afraid.

She could not growl. She was not some sort of deranged creature nor could she morph into one. Instead, it was a harmless Lady bug. A silent, small creature. But if she could have growled from her pouty, freezing lips, she would have. Her cheeks turned a soft pink from the sudden change in temperature and her hair was starting to look dry on the top, but the wet ends stuck to the jacket. A couple of strands stuck to her cheeks. She waited. Still nothing. Nervously, she stepped back once. Nothing belongs to us. Finally. He spoke. She exhaled in what sounded like relief. "No thing." She repeated, understanding. She'd never owned a thing in her life. Not one thread of clothes, not one morsel of food. Yes. She understood very well. Instead, she was the property. If people could understand that when they first came into the Menagerie, they'd get along just fine. She listened to his explanation, taking another step back as he looked over his shoulder, now five feet away. He said he meditated to calm guilty thoughts...painful thoughts. ...He said she would certainly understand. She remained quiet, more time passing than what it felt like. She finally stepped up bravely to his side, looking out the window to see what he was looking at, tip-toeing only a bit. Nothing. There was nothing outside. Still, her pale eyes darted about, trying to find something, anything that would indicate an intruder. The deathly gaze continued until his voice broke her out of her gaurd-dog-like reverie.

"Russovo, I will not tell-" She looked up sassily but the frisky voice paused when she made eye contact, frozen by his startling blues. She stepped backwards nervously, fumbling a little bit before creating decent space of what was now seven feet. Eye contact was always an uncomfortable thing, but perhaps she was more intruiged by the vibrant, navy blue. Still, she had no right to see them. It was a recipe for distastor. Yet, it had been the first moment since she got here that she was fully able to see his face and it's details up-close. She'd seen how truly beautiful he really was...and how truly grotesque his scars were. "Jovi." She finally answered, though quietly. It was certainly not her real name and not even close to the length of her full name, but it was a name more or less. No one had any business knowing her real name anyway. Jovi...Oh, but she was so far from jovial ! What a silly, stupid nick name ! She laced her fingers together from each hand, still concealed by the baggy length of the jacket. She pulled her hands to her face, a lazy look in her eyes as she was comforted by its heat. Once again, she got a breath of his scent. "¿Qué huye usted? " What do you run from?" She snapped back at him curiously, though not expecting an answer. She'd been bold explaining with her scars, but would he do the opposite for himself? Would he explain his scars - those that marked his face with a story she may never know? She didn't count on it, but the desperately angry face he'd made started to fire up on her own expressions, though it was mixed with the previous broken look. She glanced to the left, not cooperative enough to let him notice any sign of emotion or humanity...both of which brought weakness to the people here. Those who were overwhelmed by it did not survive.

It took all her will to keep her eyes turned away, until her damned eyes died of certain curiousity- those softly-tinted, emerald eyes. The moment they reached his this time, the power was overwhelming. She lit up with life, the seven feet between them seeming just about...well...seven feet too far. The warmth - the scent - every aura about him lured her in. The jacket had given her but a small sense of what could be and who he was. It was a driving hunger, something she could never truly understand with her history. She spent her entire life avoiding such horrible experiences, but what did it mean when she was pursuing him? It was all so fast and uncontrollable, her delicate, trembling hands gently clasping on each side of his face. She pulled him closer and stole a greedily aggressive kiss. In that following second, the need was driving her crazy - like no matter how she clung to his shirt and stole his body warmth, it wouldn't be enough. It wasn't enough, and the thought would've normally frightened her. What the f*** are you doing? That 'second-thought' sort of voice did not stop her. She certainly hadn't run in here expecting this...This of all damned things.

[Bonifacio Russovo [RIP]]

[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=242322] the world you  p r o m i s e d  me

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Boni heard the soft rustle of clothing as she moved towards him, just a few feet closer. He smiled to himself, looking at the arguably disfigured reflection in the window. To him, it was the most grotesque thing that had ever stared back at him with those knowing, aged eyes, glaring back at him with startling precision and cruelty. Jovi was muttering something, her tone harsh and grating. He was wrong. Oh, of course he was wrong. Everything in this whole accursed place was wrong. He signed inwardly, drifting into his own thoughts, muttering only a soft “Lo siento,” in response. Boni was drifting once again, his face stoic, though there was perhaps the faint trace of disgust in the slight pinch of the brow as he glared at his reflection, seeing nothing but a beast. I'm sorry.

Minutes dragged on and the silence grew stiff and stale about them, but he dared not disturb the tranquility that might, in mere moments, come crashing down. The creaking of wood and the light whistling of wind was the only evidence of life, that and the shallow breaths that escaped the nervous lips of two humans trapped in an unorthodox society. He released a shallow sigh, almost masking the sound of her movement. She stood next to him, eyes shifting from the window to his face. He knew, because he watched; careful not to leave his gaze lingering on her charming face for too long. Her eyes were a startling green, soft hued yet vivid and full of smothered life and obvious rage. “Russovo, I will not tell-” came a sass as she stumbled back. He winced. He’d been caught staring for far too long. He’d been caught up in the contours of her face – delicate angles, so beautifully feminine.

The woman was sculpted by a fine hand, he mused, still not moving an inch. He seemed languid and nonchalant, yet there was something in the way his eyes moved restlessly from the window frame to her beautiful face that told he was slightly…ill at ease. “Por favor, senorita...” Boni said, though his voice came out a subtle whisper that she would have to strain to hear. “I mean you no harm.” She seemed calmed by this, and he smiled half-heartedly at her, his gaze wavering as something tugged at his heart. Guilt. Unrelenting, accursed guilt! Long, thin fingers moved to tug at a loose piece of hair that had fallen into his eye, but instead they ran across his scar, tracing the trenches thoughtfully. A deep, hardened agony flashed across his face for a moment, and he turned sharply away. Then she spoke. “What do you run from?” He grimaced, and though he was skilled at smoothing his scarred face to an emotionless façade, he allowed his emotions to leak through, if only for her sake. To show that she could trust him.

“Yo…” he paused, glancing at her briefly. “Corro-” his words were cut off as her lips crashed on his, warm body pressed close, hand tracing the contours of his face and tickling at his scars. Confusion pulsed amongst chaos in his mind, as the blood seemed to pound in his ears and heat blossomed in his blood, her scent crashing over him like a tidal wave- the sickly smell of the Carna, the chill of the river, and a mix of what he supposed was his own, from the jacket that hung around her supple body. The kiss was greedy and harsh, and he returned it, only briefly, before he pulled away. Without realizing it, he had latched his arms around her waist and had pulled her closer. Staring down into Jovi’s emerald eyes he saw there desire, despair, confusion, and hunger. “You are beautiful,” he whispered, gently holding her chin so she would look at him, his touch so light it seemed non existent. “But I do not want to hurt you…” he paused, leaning in closer for a moment as her scent drifted over him again, igniting in the pit of his stomach a strange hunger of his own. He seemed tempted, leaning in close as if to kiss her himself – but he pulled back, smiling gently. “Believe me, Jovi…if I were a lesser man…” Boni looked into her eyes, knowing that she would understand what he meant. “But I cannot do this to one as beautiful as you. You have suffered much, and I think…” another pause, his finger tracing along her neck, brushing the dark locks of slick hair from her face. Something in his eyes demanded that she not move away, but it was not a cruel gesture nor one of power. It was a soft, gentle look.

“I think there is confusion above all else. It is cold in here, and I am warm. All you wanted was to get warm, si? ” By saying this, he gave her an escape, an explanation for the kiss without admission or embarrassment. Boni chuckled softly, pulling her small body into his arms, holding her close against him, enjoying the soft warmth that radiated from her. “Do not be afraid, Jovi…” he whispered, eyes closing as he enjoyed the closeness that he had been deprived of for so long. “I will keep you warm. ”

Ooc; balh blah just pretend he said it in Spanish XD

has  f o r s a k e n  me

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[jovie]

She had little to say, but reacted accordingly. She had been studying him closely, watching his fingers manage to brush his scar and that despaired look send a pang of sympathy through her veins. She leaned forward with interest even as he turned away, but of course she'd gone too far forward and started a rampage of confusion for him with that kiss. All the while she was wondering about him. What would make a man's eyes look so tortured? What could agonize him to such an extent to look like he was burning with in his own skin? She could only think he was ashamed of the scar, or what had happened when he'd gotten it. She did not feel guilty about her's. She knew better than to blame herself for something she couldn't control. But was he at fault? She wanted to know the story. Perhaps she would've gotten it if she wasn't ...- She snapped out of her reverie when he pulled away from her, and yet at the same time, his arms pulled her right up against him.

Her heart raced with perhaps equal confusion, knowing that when she was held like this, she'd fight. Get away. The voice screamed inside her as it did instinctively. She blanked out for a moment, not there but somewhere else - somewhere darker and sicker. The curtains pulled back from the small 'compartment' she'd been thrown into. They each had a compartment, rows and rows of curtains boxed in like private cages, all too weak to so much as lift their heads or utter a cry. Each stranger would help themselves to whichever curtain they like as long as they had given an honest payment. She could hear the screams of the newer girls being walked in, though farther back to a seperate room where they would be taught that a voice was nothing. A stranger walked into her own area. Her dull eyes didn't bother to look up. They knew she'd put up the biggest fight, but she'd lost the fight in her the previous morning, exhausted from the whipping. But they would not take her. She knew better than to think she was better than any other of these captured subjects, but she refused. She felt the stranger press his lips against her neck and his sickly smell added to the sweat, dirt, and blood. She held back several gags. That was the night it'd been just too close. It was also the night a few, including her, had been rescued, healed, and trained.

She seemed to move around uncomfortably, whimpering to herself until she returned to her senses, listening to his voice. One of her hands clung tightly to his shoulder - perhaps too tight - while the other rested on his chest. His gentle look commanded her senses like none other ever could as she looked up at him wonderously like an exploring child. “I think there is confusion above all else. It is cold in here, and I am warm. All you wanted was to get warm, si? ” She had startled him, confused him, and she wanted to understand what she was feeling. He made it clear that he did not share this irrisistible pull... But it had only been moments since she met him. It was understandable...so why didn't she understand? "Si..." She breathed. "Si." She looked down, her face holding an odd expression that quite resembled wincing. She felt rather worthless, for lack of a better word. It was all she could come up with for this severe embarrassment - no matter how he'd tried to dodge it for her. But he was right. ...

Confusion topped it all. She buried her face in his chest, letting him keep her warm, trying to organize the tornado of thoughts. "Sorry." She voiced back, thought there was a tinge of question in her voice - as though she weren't sure if that were the right word. It was probably good for her, as she rarely appologized. The lives she took, she just knew they deserved it, that she was doing the world a favor. But now she really could relate with him. Guilt was a horrible feeling. He'd said he didn't want to hurt her, and she almost wanted to explain to him again that she was no victim. On the contrary, actually.
Of course, she didn't understand how delicate she looked. When he said beautiful, she could hardly understand what he meant. She looked up at the window, to where he'd been grimacing at his reflection. She didn't really recognize the girl in the reflection's arms. She shook her head thoughtfully, brows pulling together in concentration. "Dígame." Tell me. She whispered, referring back to what had been bothering her before. He'd started to explain but she cut him off, and all she could do was direct their minds in a different direction, though this direction was probably touchy for him.

Perhaps she didn't have a right to know, but if he chose not to tell her, she knew she could handle rejection again. She rested her head, but started to slip in his grip a bit, knees wanting to give out. It was clear she was completely physically spent. And yet, her mind was working quickly, thinking about this strange man, so disgusted with his reflection. He'd clearly seen death. He meditated... There was more to him. He was respectable...but what had hurt him? She didn't want to see that agonized look again. It nearly drove her into madness, and so she finally started to pull out of his grasp, stepping out two feet before sinking to the ground carefully. He was hurt, and she didn't need to cause him more pain. She was nobody's inconvience...and still...everything seemed so much colder, darker, and threatening with out him. She sat up, letting the wall hold her up as she took to watching him again.

[Bonifacio Russovo [RIP]]

[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=000000] through chaos and  c a l u m n y

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Her eyes seemed now to unnerve him as she fixed upon him, inquiring with rakish hunger that grew and grew till it transfixed him an almost paralyzing fear. What did she want of him? Thick brows drew together as he struggled with his conflicting thoughts. Overwhelming was the sudden desire to escape Jovi and her rampant curiosity. She asked too much, too much. He was repelled by the idea that he was, after so long, to share the secret that he had held close, so desperately close. Only one other had known, and he was long dead. So long. Dígame. Her voice shattered his hopes of some semblance of secrecy - she wanted to know. "No." The word slipped cold and calloused from his lips, and it surprised him. Brows lifted in slight shock at what he had said, but he did not yet regret it. "This secret I have kept close to my heart for too long." He grimaced, knowing how insensitive it came out. "I understand how this could offend you...you, after all..." He motioned carelessly with his hand, his gaze shifting back to the window, as he turned away.

He could not do it. Could not reveal the guilt that weighed down his soul. He was so weak. Could he not just tell her? Would that not heal the wounds that still ached deep inside, despite the years that separated him from the past? Bonifacio could not comprehend why he, of all people, could not come to terms with all that roiled and clashed in his mind. He noted that the evening had faded into nightfall, and he could hear crickets chirping. "Come, let us sleep. It has been a long day..." Boni glanced at her warily. "I wish I had more to keep you warm...but all I have is the sweater." He walked to the opposite wall where she sat and lowered himself to the floor, his long legs sticking out in front of him as he prepared himself for sleep. "I do not trust the rest of the house for safety." He made no movement to wrap her in his arms, though he wanted to, if only to protect the small, fragile woman and keep her warm. With only the purest of thoughts, he allowed his eyes to drift close, though he was still awake and aware.

Hours passed, and still sleep would not come to his troubled mind. "If only I could tell you." Bonifacio murmured, eyes searching for Jovi's face in the darkness.

neither soul nor h e a r t  may yet still beat

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ooc; new table! sexayybeast. Um, I might need to talk to you on MSN about this but yah x3
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[Bonifacio Russovo [RIP]]

fin~

[jovie]

If she had not been so spent, she would have up and left the room completely - whether or not he trusted the rest of the house. She didn't need to be babysat. At his snappy "No", she cringed away from him, turning in the complete other direction, her muscles cold and rigid, ready for some sort of fight. And then she listened to him again, talking to her like she was an inconvience. She couldn't help but start to hate him for it, her cold eyes pulling into a dangerous glare as she held her glance steadily towards the ground in front of her. Her lips were pursed together in irritation. She, too, had been punished for speaking. But a secret it was not. She couldn't understand what made his own explanation more sacred and far more hurtful than her own. She couldn't possibly even fathom it! But being a silent creature, she didn't growl, snarl, or roar. Suffer in silence. Words to live by...Facing away from him and keeping up the act, she brushed off the rest of his words until her grimace was too tiring to hold. Eventually her lids shut and she slipped to the cold floor.

And still his face trouble her in her sleep. She'd taken to tossing back and forth, her face twisted in discomfort as she relived the only expressions he had to offer her. The confusion. The wariness. The fear. The distrust. The agony. She could see him lashing out. She could see all of these expressions holding a deeper anger. "No." She heard the cold snap again - defeaning in the silence of the room, much like the crack of an all to familiar whip. She yelped, jumping up out of her sleep, shaking and sweating with wild, confused eyes. She looked about ready to lose it. An average girl would've fallen over sobbing. Perhaps she might have if she wasn't so damned tired. Of course, he must have left. Anyone in the right mind would have run away. And still she couldn't help but crawl the floor blindly, sensing for that warmth. She found him, and rested her head on his waist harmlessly. Certainly if she had all her energy, she would've acted quite different. And the morning was yet to come. It would be a hell of a morning for him. Still, it was only moments before she fell into a settled sleep.