venvolkov
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by venvolkov on Oct 27, 2010 2:12:43 GMT -5
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His feet met empty air, and it was at once thrilling and terrifying. His legs swung a gently rhythm, back and forth over the checkered tiles of the kitchen floor--once white and royal blue--though age and the copious amount of dirt his dirty boots brought in from outdoors had aged the white of the tiles to a dull sort of cream. The stool he sat on was, in many respects, much too high. He still needed the aid of his mother to clamber on and off--and how he delighted in it! The way his laughing mother would lift him gently, catching him just under his arms, lips sputtering the imitation of an airplane noise as she swept him through the air, until his shrieks of delighted laughter had to be silenced by a stern finger placed against her lips, lest his father--his father with a hangover this morning--the same as every morning, awaken. Making a game out of it, always a game.
He giggled, but more quietly, as she crushed him close against her, kissing his round cheeks with exaggerated noises until he squirmed, grinning and full to bursting with giddiness. And then she set him down with a quick ruffle of his hair. He watched the back of her apron strings intently as she set about preparing breakfast--diligently carving the thin brown crust away from his sandwich, to his soft inquiry of 'Juice, mama?' On the stool, he felt important. Safe. These quiet moments before his father stirred were special, something only they shared.
She turned from the counter, the soft and faintly sweet scent of her hair rising in a soft whisper of air around her as she set the plate in front of him. His small hands reached eagerly for the jam sandwich, the thick red easing from the sides in a slow, gelatinous pool. And suddenly his plate was awash in it. Not jam--blood. Flooding the edges of the pristine white, spilling onto the dull beige of the counter. The scent was nauseating, and the way it clung...poured, flowed. Into every crack, every surface. His cries were frantic, little-half sobs. 'Mama! Mama!' But when he glanced up, his mother was still smiling. Her face was serene, though blood streamed from her mouth, coating her chin. Her eyes were only hollow, bleak sockets, colorless and rust-red with the blood that flowed like crimson tears from their corners.
'Ma--!'
He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? Something thick was flooding his lungs, thick and metallic in taste, making him gasp, struggle for air that would not come. Everything hurt. He didn't understand. Why couldn't he move? And then he was coughing. Coughing until his ribs ached, until their bowed points dug into the cavity of his chest, and everything was...
White. No blood. No kitchen counter. Thin, crisp sheets of cotton, tucked around a small, sunken body. Nothing but the thin rasp of his breath and the faint beat of his heart, echoed by the monitor at his bedside. The pain, at least, had stopped. The silence was broken by the hushed rise and fall of his mother's voice--in conversation or prayer, he couldn't tell. All that he could be sure of was the elegant curve of her fingers, the comforting weight of her hand around his.
'Mama?' And then her hand was gently brushing back his hair, a soothing, quieting noise escaping her. 'Shh, sweet boy.' He slept. A dreamless sleep. He slept for a long time. And when he woke again, he felt...different. Stronger. Closer to before. His mother was still at his bedside, but this time she read to him from the tattered copy of his favorite--and only--book. She looked different. Older. Fear and exhaustion had aged his mother--his beautiful, invincible mother--seemingly overnight.
'Can we go home now?' 'No, sweet.' 'Why? I want to.' She hesitated. That hesitation of grownups when they're keeping something important from their children. 'I want to go home,' he repeated, louder. 'I know. I know you do.' And those aged eyes of her were suddenly damp. He felt alarmed. He'd only ever seen his mother cry once or twice. Momentary, wracking sobs-minor breakdowns that never lasted long. Cold dread. He frowned, trying to concentrate. It was important, this thing that made her sad. He was sure of it. But why...
'Does...does Dem miss me?' Too young yet to ask if he'd asked for him. So sure he was waiting for him. And he certainly missed him. 'I'm sure he does.' '...I want to go home. I want to cuddle with D--!' 'Venka.' And her voice was suddenly stern--the tone she always used to silence him when he'd done something wrong. And he stilled, and was quiet. Confused, but quiet, eyes trained on her expectantly. 'You can't go home.'
And he wanted to ask 'why?' But the words were like a punch. Devastating, because there was none of her usual teasing behind them. And he didn't understand. All he knew was that home meant his mother. It meant Dmitri. And those things were being taken away from him, and no one would tell him why. What had he done? Was he such an awful child, that he deserved this? He frantically tried to rack his brain, to think of something he might have said, or dirtied, or broken, to make his mother so angry with him. When he couldn't think of anything, he wept.
'Mama doesn't like me anymore?' The heartbroken, sobbed words sent her arms around him in a flash, quiet, soothing words escaping her. But she couldn't weep. Just as she had no answers for him that he would understand. And...
A dim corridor, and hushed voices just beyond it. His mother's was the most prominent, low at first, rushed with pleading, growing sharper with her hysteria. He'd been coloring, slightly outside of the lines. It would build back his motor skills faster, they'd said. All he knew, was that it made him happy, tiny hand wobbling uncertain scribbles mostly inside of the lines, tongue tucked to the corner of his mouth in concentration. But the sounds of his mother's obvious distress caused him to stop, slowly putting down his crayon in the crease of his coloring book.
The door to the room opened, bringing with it strange men in suits that he didn't recognize. And though they smiled, he didn't trust it. Didn't trust them. His mother's lower lip quivered as they approached him, all soft words and forced smiles. And when they asked if he'd like to visit the play area, he couldn't help but nod enthusiastically, reaching his small arms up, momentarily forgetting his mother's distress as they lifted him from the bed and set him gently on his feet. Once they reached the corridor, it was the raw shriek of grief that startled him into turning around.
His mother knelt in the halls, sobbing and reaching out to him. He frowned, turning to stare at her wide-eyed. He couldn't make out her words beyond 'Don't take him, please don't take him,' running into a tearful incoherence. He broke away from the gentle grip of his hand, half-running, half-stumbling down the hall into her arms, clinging to her fiercely and dissolving into tears himself. Afraid. Confused. And then there were hands on him, yanking him back sharply. It hurt. And so he screamed, screamed himself raw, tiny fingers desperately trying to keep hold of his mother even as he was ripped from her arms.
And his mother grew smaller as they walked briskly from her. She got smaller, but her wails got louder, until the door swung shut and silenced them.
Ven woke up with the scream still on his lips, jerking upright with a violent twist of the sheets. His breath came in ragged gasps for air, his skin slick and beaded with a thin sheen of sweat. His fists balled in the sheets--the very sheets that he had twisted and clawed himself free of seconds before, striking out blindly, not caring who or what his fists hit. The room was dark, but it made little difference. He wasn't seeing it. What remained fresh in his mind was the afterimage of the dream, still playing out on the backs of his eyelids. He was shivering, his body jerking in small, aborted motions. His jaw ached with the pressure of which he clenched it, the strain making his teeth creak even as his breathing slowed.
His heart still beat wildly in his chest, fast and irregular. It was just a dream. Just a... Only it hadn't been. No matter how he tried, he couldn't shut out the past once his eyes closed. It found a way to creep in slowly. Often the same dream, with variations. Snatches of the life he'd lived, regrets, memories...some warped penance, he supposed, for his sins. The cold struck him then, and slowly, as if he were still caught in the fog of a dream, he drew the crumbled sheets around himself. But it did nothing to stave off the chill.
It was then that Ven remembered Adam, and his head turned slowly to his right. He wondered if he'd woken the man--and a twinge of guilt colored his thoughts at this. He got such precious little sleep. But by now, it was unlikely that all of Fulsi hadn't heard him. Steadying his breath to the best of his ability as the dream faded, muted at the edges, he slowly sank down beneath the sheets once more. Slowly, he inched over to the form of the other shifter, until he was close enough to tangle his arms around him. Pillowing his head on Adam's chest, Ven took comfort in his warmth and presence. And did his best to ignore the damp lashes that traced designs on the man's chest.
Ooc: ...1643 words. Dear god, I think this my longest post on TM yet. ...But I did warn you, Ali. Have fun slogging through all that. -dies, rolls to bed-
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adam
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by adam on Oct 30, 2010 19:41:01 GMT -5
[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=d6eaf3] Adam’s telepathy ran rampant that night, sneaking into Ven thoughts every once and a while as Adam lay next to the Russian in an uneasy sleep. The first flashes of the blondes dream were normal, happy scenes even but the next time Adam’s ability choose to invade Ven’s thoughts, it brought out a whimper from the French man. Even in a dream, Adam hated to see he his lover in pain and that was exactly what his telepathy was picking up. Ven in a hospital, a women praying by his side! Then the child version of Adam’s lover being dragged away from what Adam could only guess was the Russian’s mother. But the scream that rang through to the waking world was the worse. He’d never heard Ven scream, not even when the blonde had been so sick he had thought Adam was cutting of his leg and it was a sound that seemed so utterly wrong coming from the Russian's mouth. For a moment Adam wondered if the cry had been just a dream, the whole incident just one unhappy nightmare, his eyes were still closed after all. Then he felt the Russian next to him shift and he knew it was real. Ven, the hitman, the person who had always appeared so unbreakable had screamed.
His body was tense as it felt Ven cuddle up against him and the wetness that ticked his chest did nothing to calm him, was his former mentor crying as well? This was so wrong, Ven had always been the strong one and now the Russian seemed so fragile and small in his arms. Biting nervously at his lip, Adam debated on what to do. Should he just lay there and pretend nothing had happened or should he try and comfort his lover? It was tough, he’d had those sort of night terrors many times before but there had never been anyone there when the dream occurred and he’d been stuck laying there terrified all night. Sure, Adam would have loved if someone had held him during those long sleepless nights but would Ven want the same thing? He knew that the blonde hated to appear weak, the days when the Russian had been ill had certainly proved that. Still he couldn’t help but think that leaving Ven to suffer alone would be cruel, he was the man’s boyfriend and even if he was generally the weaker one of them, he could still try and make Ven feel safe.
Forcing himself to relax into the odd embrace, Adam wrapped his arms protectively around Ven and pulled the blonde close. His head leaned downwards to plant a gentle kiss on the top of his boyfriend’s head and to give the man a nuzzle. It pained him to see Ven hurting this way but now was not the time to breakdown, now was the time to be strong for the Russian in his arms just as Ven was always strong for him. Swallowing his nervousness or trying to, Adam took special care as not to stutter. The way his words were broken and permanently uncertain sounding would not help him be reassuring and so it would have to go. “It’s….alright, Ven.” His words were a bit slow in coming for he thought long and hard about how they should sound and how they would not under any circumstance have a stutter. Taking a deep breath, he continued, brow furrowing in concentration. “No one…can..can hurt you now. I love you and..and you’re safe. Promise” With that said, he trailed off, uncertain of what else to say.
Ooc: Such fail compared to yours! :~~:
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venvolkov
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by venvolkov on Oct 30, 2010 20:09:19 GMT -5
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The sudden speech that rang through the murk startled him--but only for a moment. He had been so secure in his belief that Adam had slept on--oblivious to his blind terror. Irrational terror, at that--he was long past the age where such memories should effect him at this age as negatively as they had then. But a different emotion swept through him, chasing away the fear that had washed through his veins, only to replace it with a bitter disappointment--and shame. He had gone through such effort to make sure he hadn't woken Adam, and he'd failed. Worse than that, he'd been caught wailing like a child. What Adam must've thought was beyond him. Probably that there's something wrong with me. And wasn't there? He demanded harshly of himself. What grown man woke up with their mother's name still half-formed on their lips? It was shameful. It was...
Then the words Adam had spoken took meaning. They were soft, reassuring. And there was, to Ven's astonishment, no judgment coloring them. No uncomfortable silences that would result in the two of them averting their eyes from each other in the morning, pretending as if the night had never happened. It should have calmed him. And it did, in some respects. But something broke inside of Ven in the face of such gentleness. The quivering of his limbs, which had stopped the moment his arms found Adam in the darkness, returned. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was only silence, save for his ragged, hitched breathing and the cracked, broken noise that was more like the sharp yelp of something kicked than any real word at all.
He gave his head a shake. Slowly, at first, and then faster and more vehement. Part of him was still trapped in those fading echoes of his memory. He buried his head further into Adam's chest, as if he could hide from his thoughts in the other man's arms. Substituting one darkness for another. The difference was that the shadows around Adam's body were warm and comforting, with a faintly sweet scent of both fresh linen and pine. Safe. The other came from himself. And that, unfortunately, was something that he could never quite outrun. A soft sigh shuddered out of him, and he slowly relaxed into Adam, quieting under the kiss.
"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm so, so sorry." But it was unclear to whom he was apologizing--to Adam, to his mother, or to himself, simply because no one else ever had. In the end, it was truly all three.
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adam
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by adam on Oct 30, 2010 21:29:32 GMT -5
[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=d6eaf3] The way Ven shook his head so furiously alarmed Adam, making him squish the Russian closer to himself, uttering soft soothing noises to try and calm the blonde down. It was so disquieting to see Ven come undone like this, Adam hated it and so Ven’s next words only distressed him more letting a tiny bit of his stutter slip back into his voice. “N-no!” He gave another soft nuzzle to the blonde before he continued, the worry clear in his voice. “G-god, no! Ven you didn’t do anything wrong!” Sighing up a storm, Adam was starting to wonder if the Russian had caught something again, he hadn’t seen Ven so distressed since well, since he’d been sick. Still the forehead pressed so tightly against his chest wasn’t unusually hot nor had the Russian seemed anything but perfectly healthy just the day before. But then what other than some sort of sickness would cause this behavior in man who just shrugged off all bodily wounds and could stand such other painful things? Adam could think of no other reason but disease.
There was no way the lemon scented death bug could have gotten to Ven either, the Russian’s brain was too strong for that, Adam was certain and besides he was around the blonde enough to notice that sort of thing. So it must be an illness, some sort of sadness plague! Yet something told him that this wasn’t a disease rather some sort of dark shadow from Ven’s past that just wouldn’t leave the Russian alone. It scared him, Adam was helpless to stop whatever his lover was going through, he could only stand by and try to pick up the pieces on nights such as these. It would be almost better if the Russian was simply sick because at least then there would be some sort of cure. There wasn’t a guaranteed cure for the wounds in one’s head though and sometimes there wasn’t a fix at all.
Gently cupping Ven’s face and raising it up from where the Russian had buried into his scarred chest, Adam gave the blonde what he hoped was a reassuring and fond smile, inwardly wincing at the melancholy tone in which the Russian’s violins played at the touch. The sad music only worsened his sense of dread, what if Ven was broken? What if his lover stayed this way forever, just a shadow of what he’d once been, so fragile and easily shattered. The blonde felt almost like a paper doll in his hands and for a second Adam felt that if he moved too fast that the Russian would tear to pieces in his arms. Even talking too loudly or quickly seemed like it would cause Ven to blow out the window never to come back again. So with the utmost care, Adam shifted scooting his body down a bit so he was closer to eye level with Ven and still cradling the Russian’s head, Adam gently wiped away the lingering wetness by Ven’s eyes with his thumb. “I love you, Ven and..and no matter what you do, I will always. S-s-so no more sorries, okay?”
Ooc: So short! AM SORRY.
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venvolkov
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by venvolkov on Oct 30, 2010 21:47:29 GMT -5
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Ven's eyes were wide and blank, though the darkness of the room concealed this fact. It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. By the cold light of morning, the night would, to Ven, feel like nothing more than a weighty hollowness in his stomach. For now, however, his pupils all but swallowed themselves, expanding into ever-widening rings of inkwell black. The soothing noises that Adam man registered only faintly, and his swallows were rough and hot, coming too quickly in his panic. One hand had somehow worked itself between the pair, clutching at Adam's shirt, his fingers clenching around the fabric so tightly that the bones of his knuckles, straining against his skin, were a stark white. He clung to Adam with all the pent up, internal desperation of a drowning man. And in a sense, he was drowning. Desperate for some sort of lifeline, if only for a moment.
But at the man's words, Ven flinched--a violent motion that sent him shivering once again. "I did something wrong?" in his muddled state, Ven had latched onto only the final half of Adam's sentence. There was something childlike in the question, something that was as disappointed in himself as it was afraid. Of who? Of what? He couldn't remember, partly didn't want to. But the quiet sound of footsteps in the halls and voices pitched low made Ven's head suddenly snap towards the door, his body tensing against Adam's. "I don't mean to." The words increased in their pitch as Adam's hands settled around his face, the anxiety in them clear.
It was only when he couldn't get his head free of Adam's touch, however gentle it was, that he averted his eyes. It had worked in the past. Look away and whatever was dealt to you hurt less. Words were just words, fists...well. Both lost equal power if you didn't acknowledge them fully. Didn't let on that they hurt. But after a moment he stilled, drawing his racing thoughts in order. Or at least, he made the effort. The sound of Adam's voice, at least, was instantly calming. Even though the haze of his slowly waking mind, the fact that this was someone he could trust was the only thing that kept him from lashing out.
But his words...were a lie. He flinched then, glancing up at Adam with a dazed, uncomprehending expression. "No," he muttered. "Hate. You should hate me." But he left it at that, some of the manic energy seeping from him, until he was suddenly limp. "But I have to," he sighed. "I never bothered to before, and that's why everything is...wrong." It was too late now, of course. Much too late, and he knew this. So instead he nestled against Adam, his grip tightening on him.
"Don't leave."
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adam
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by adam on Oct 30, 2010 22:59:22 GMT -5
[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=d6eaf3] It almost brought tears to his own eyes, the way Ven had taken his words so wrong. Shaking his head, Adam suppressed a choked whimper and fought to keep it together. He wanted Ven to stop acting like this more than anything in the world right now, he wanted his Ven back! The Ven that was unmovable and loving and always teasing! He wanted that man back more than he had ever longed for before. Holding in another sigh, Adam planted a flurry of tiny kisses onto Ven’s face. They were ghosting touches, kisses that were barely there and meant more to soothe then for romance, he just hoped they got through to the disturbed Russian. Adam was starting to think that the world Ven was seeing was not the same one that that he saw, rather it seemed that Ven was lost in the past or some other dark place. It worried him, Adam had gone through it before, one time while Ven was there. In fact as he thought on it, the Russian had been the one to cause it. Still, he had always come out of those moments rather quickly, Ven on the other hand didn’t show any signs of understanding what was going on. “N-no! You did n-nothing wrong!” This time he stressed the word nothing, trying to get the blonde to understand the full meaning of his words rather than part of them. It was like he was playing telephone with whatever was haunting Ven’s mind.
Slipping his hands back down to encircle his lover in a shielding embrace, Adam gave Ven another absent minded nuzzle, trying to think of something to bring the man back to normal. He only drew blanks, every possible idea failing to meet his safety standards. Everything he might say or do could set the blonde off worse. Then the Russian spoke again and almost broke Adam’s heart. “Don’t ever say t-that! I love you and I’ll never hate you! No m-matter what you do, I’ll never h-hate you!” Clutching Ven tight to his chest, Adam fought the urge to cry, the tears were quickly gathering in his eyes and even though he was trying, really trying to be tough for his lover, Adam could barely stand to see the Russian act like this. It just tore him up.
Then Ven went limp against him and Adam nearly pulled away, alarmed by this sudden lack of energy after the blonde’s outburst. However, he was wary of making Ven think he was angry or something by moving so instead he merely lifted one hand, skimming it gently over the Russian’s back before raising it to pet Ven’s head softly. “Nothing is w-w-wrong just because you didn’t say sorry. Things go w-wrong for reasons out of our hands.” Something in his tone was pleading, just as something in his eyes was so deeply afraid, and all of him really just wanted Ven to come out of this dark daze. “So stop t-t-this, please! Come back to me, Ven, just come back and I won’t ever leave!”
Ooc: Saaad Venkins is sad.
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venvolkov
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by venvolkov on Oct 30, 2010 23:31:58 GMT -5
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Ven's lashes fluttered gently with each kiss he received, his earlier hysteria easing somewhat with the gentle brush of Adam's lips. In the back of his mind, there was still the fear that it would only last a moment, before he was torn from Adam's arms as well, forced to face something that he'd been avoiding for quite a long time indeed. Something he'd tried, and failed, to bury in the deep recesses of his mind, though every so often it would claw its way to the fore of his thoughts once more. It had been years since he'd had the comfort of another in his bed--some warm, solid presence to chase away the restlessness of the thoughts in his head. With Adam next to him, he could lie to himself for just a little longer.
Ven wet his lips nervously. "No, I did. I did. I have." But the protests came softer now, weaker in their conviction. It was so much easier, after all, to give in and believe Adam's words, in spite of the fact that he knew the truth. It was funny, the calming effect they had. Ven wasn't sure why Adam was so willing to forgive him--something he could never afford himself--but he took refugee in it. For just a little while, it made things better.
After a moment, his breathing evened, subdued by the embrace and nuzzle. "I love you too," he murmured, and there at last was a whisper of clarity, of recognition in his voice. Slowly but surely, he was coming out of it. And though he couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud--couldn't hurt Adam that way, his eyes murmured a softer never say never. Because he couldn't ever quite shake the feeling that it was inevitable. The stroking of his hair, however, brought him out of it entirely.
"Sorry," he said again, softly. "Didn't mean to...you know. Scare you." His hand, tense and aching with the strain of holding onto Adam as fiercely as he had been, gingerly let go of his shirt, in favor of resting on Adam's chest. "Neither of us will leave, then."
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shirsharespie
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by shirsharespie on Oct 30, 2010 23:43:08 GMT -5
THREAD END LAST FLUFF THREAD :~~: ....AND THE SUPER PLOT OF DOOM BEGINS. On Halloween at that![/right]
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