TO WHAT EXTREMES [P]

[grey]

Statistically, Grey had heard, people saw far fewer sunrises in their lifetimes than they did sunsets. In his youth he had laughed at this, somewhat bitterly, due to his unruly time schedule. He saw more sunrises than he would have liked.

But this morning, it was beautiful. The sky was not lit in pastel oranges and pinks but, instead, it was a violent red. Grey could not help but think that it was the color of blood, as though someone had torn a hole in the heavens and now the angels themselves bled. The stretch of desert, broken only by scrubs and yellowed grass, was a combination of golds and crimson. Regal colors, his father would have said, although Grey could not help but think that these were the colors of war.

Of course, that was fitting enough. He was not on Fallen territory to apologize for his abandonment; contrarily, he was there on business, and it showed in his posture. In his wolf form, he was tense and alert, his angular ears pointed forward and his posture erect. He was utilizing a higher sand dune to his advantage, his eyes tracking the progress of a group of Fallen below. They appeared to be a hunting or scavenging party, an elk carcass strung up between four men. Four other individuals, three women and a man, had split crudely wrapped packages between them. The man dragged a woman behind him, bound at the wrists with a pair of handcuffs and a chain. Grey did not look at the faces of the Fallen, afraid that he would recognize them if he did.

Grey could remember the look on the Delta's face. "If you're loyal to Carna, you won't have a problem raiding a group of Fallen, will you?" Lyric had not been demanding per se. In fact, he seemed downright indolent, leaning back against the wall and curling the edge of his mouth into a smile. "Consider it a test. A few Scouts spotted a group passing through no man's land and it looked like they had some valuables. You'll be outnumbered and alone, but prove to me what you can do and we'll see if we can raise your rations."

Having lived off of half rations since he had joined Carna, Grey had already lost several pounds and often found himself prodding at the ridges of his rib-cage. Perhaps that was why he was eyeing up the Fallen almost hungrily, unconcerned with the prisoner until he got a closer glimpse of her.

Yes, her. His eyes narrowed and his body lowered instinctively, until his stomach came close to touching the ground. He saw a glimmer of red hair and, initially, Grey believed this to be a result of the bloody sunrise. Seconds later he dismissed this optimistic belief in favor for the truth; it was the redhead of the Carna border. He continued to wait for the patrol, until they were very nearly walking beneath the crest of his sand dune. It was then that Grey launched his attack, springing off of powerful hind legs to land directly in the center of the group. He was certain that they would have attacked or defended themselves then, save for the fact every man there paused when they saw the faint green glow from the eyes of the wolf, as well as the pads. He snarled and then said, "... I don't think you want to die from radiation poisoning, do you?" He addressed the closest Fallen, the one holding the prisoner. The man looked shocked but shook his head, swallowing. At the same moment, a woman raised her bow and arrow.

Grey reacted without processing it, lunging at her just as the arrow was shot. He felt the nick in his side, but then his paws hit his targets shoulders and she collapsed beneath his weight. Without hesitating, his jaws went for her face--and rip. It gave a wet, ribbing sound as his eye teeth sunk into the flesh of her cheek and turned it into a bloody mess. He turned then, feeling the prick of something else--a spear tip. He turned on that Fallen then, wrenching the weapon from their grasp with his teeth before it could puncture his shoulder. Grey, in turn, made a lunge for the man as well.

Two Fallen were dead at his feet, all allegiances severed. He continued to give off that light greenish glow and, with little delay, the wolf snarled again. Each time he took a breath, he felt the catch of the arrow against his ribs. "Go!" Very nearly frothing at the mouth, there was no denying the fact that he was out of control--and the fact that he gave off the scent of the Keeper compound may have made some of the Fallen consider the fact that he could have been a virus.

Once they fled (a good portion of them had dropped their supplies, including the two that Grey had killed) he turned to glance at the prisoner. She had been left behind with little regard for her well-being. He offered a grunt before shapeshifting into a man. "You have bad luck." It was a statement.

[ROMA|RED]

Oh dear God this was so much crap.
It had been years that Roma had been well hidden in the folds of the Menagerie. Once a part of a ring and now a rouge, she couldn’t even remember anymore which she had previously belonged to. Simply put … she hadn’t cared.

Sister wolf had taken them abroad, without Roma’s complaint. There had been such a span of time since Roma had been present (for personal reasons) that they had remained elusive and rouge … and as a result thin but free of a ring.

It was Roma’s fault they had been captured, she was sure. The girl had so much less experience than the she-wolf it was depressing… but now was no time to spend on regret. They had caught her without warning, knocked her out and now she followed by her wrists.

They had cuffed her.
Unimpressed yet subjected, Roma had no choice but to follow them. Their babbalings for reason meant little to her and her sound snort of a sigh through her human nostrils seemed enough to fend them off from speaking to her.

Despite her capture, somehow Roma viewed this as an inconvenience as appose to a threat. Two days later, she was pissed. She had not spoken a single word to any of them, yet they decided to pester her with questions that she didn’t know, and tell her who she was. Whatever, what she said wouldn’t change things anyway.

Her mouth was dry, however she did not expect water or food. Hell she hadn’t gotten it in the past two days why would she now? As they walked along she followed the same asshole that that cuffed her. The dust was horrid and …

What was that?
Hazel eyes caught movement, but it was so fast Roma did not know …
Before she could comprehend there was an attack. Screams, anger, blood – and before her eyes had accepted what had happened, a large black wolf panted in her face. Very suddenly it was dead quiet. Without recognition she had pushed herself through the dirt away from the mayhem. Hot crimson splattered her face and her wide eyes watched the creature in shock.

Sister Wolf was crazed.
Without realizing it, the stillness they had taken was Sister Wolf and their eyes blazed a brilliant gold. Words were offered to a disoriented wolf in a human girl’s body, and in response Roma took the fore.

”My hero,” she replied without much thought, a dead voice and no emotion. Her thumb and forefinger flicker nervously as she rose to her feet.Her chain remained in the dead man’s hands.

The corner of her mouth twitched in an attempt to smile, but it hurt. Why?
When had Sister Wolf taken over? How badly was she damaged. Her whole body hurt. What had they done? In almost wonder Roma’s bound hands rose to her face.

A black eye, split lip and bruised cheekbone was her prize, along with a variation of other injuries less noticeable. She hissed, and dropped to her knees where she was again face to face with the striped lupine. She smiled then, and her split lip bled.

”My hero,” she said again but more fondly. ”Then again, you might eat me so I might be worse off,” Roma said with a chuckle. Sister Wolf could not leave her so vulnerable. Her eyes retained the bright gold as she regarded the striped Carna wolf with a silly, dreamy smile.

[grey]

His eyes remained on her for only an instant before Grey turned his face back towards the horizon. No longer was the sky blood-red. It had become a multitude of golds.

There were worse days to die on.

With that thought in mind, he turned back to her. Jesus, her eyes are bright. He didn't remember this from their first meeting but quickly dismissed their color to the bright sun. The tenderfoot shapeshifted and rose, breaking away from her with little expression aside from a jump in the edge of his jaw, as though he contemplated a smile but dismissed it. "At least I would make it enjoyable." She could take it however she wanted. Grey wasn't going to let the stranger get under his skin this time around, however. He was going to give her hell.

He hardly regarded her as he fished a pair of gloves from his pocket. He had been given radiation a few weeks prior and he still didn't have complete control of the ability; thus, it was better to be safe than sorry. He moved to the body nearest to him, the one holding the chain of the rogue. Grey did not register the man's features, being that he was already dead. To Grey? It was hardly any different than looking at the carcass of a deer, even if it was a damn waste of life.

Regardless, the man was wearing a backpack of supplies, still smelling fresh of the Keeper compound. Grey struggled to wrestle the bag free of the corpse. Once that was accomplished, he turned to the rogue. "You look more fun in chains." His comment was delivered crisply, almost like an insult if the words had been different. He moved away from her to continue gathering the supplies, aware of the fact that Fallen would no doubt bring reinforcements.

"I'm trying to decide if I'm going to help you or not." His light eyes flicked towards her indifferently. He struck quite the interesting image, being that blood coated a good portion of his face, almost like a macabre smile.

[ROMA|RED]

The corner of her mouth lifted and a light noise shot from her nose in a grunt of appreciative humor. Never had she thought she’d be glad to see this guy; however she would ever prefer his company to the Fallen. Such irritating creatures.

Without comment or judgment Roma watched the Carna pry the goods from the dead man’s hands … the same man that had held her prisoner, and still did with lifeless fingers. You look more fun in chains, he commented, and Roma simply sighed. Still on her knees, she blinked several times to clear her vision. She was weak. Sister wanted to take over, but Roma would not let her. Was that something she could do before?

Her shoulders were stiff, and she’d do just about anything for someone to pour a bucket of cold water over her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Help her? That heedless smile pulled at her mouth and her gilded hues were as golden as ever. Sister Wolf was fighting her, insistent that she could care for them – but Roma knew better. The chains that held them now would cripple them in a wolf’s form.

Roma bowed her head low. Her red hair fell to cover her face and she smiled at the ground. If he left her here … she pushed the thought away. He was not a man she wanted to cross, she knew that much – however the danger he presented made her want to …

Suddenly fingers grasped her chin and pulled her head up none too delicately. His eyes were harsh and Roma’s closed slowly as her throat flashed to take in air. She could feel his breaths on her freckled face and when her eyes opened again they were brown and hazel once more. Lashes fluttered, not for coyness – no she was too tired for that … she was still having problems focusing and they batted as she focused on his face.

He seemed to be considering something. What, she did not know - so her eyes shifted towards the dead man that her chained wrists, and then back to the Carna. He had not moved. She licked her lips. It felt like sand paper to her dried mouth and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

[grey]

Possessed by some fool's urge, Grey had seized her face with blood-stained hands. The grip on her chin was an unforgiving one, the brunt of his thumb, index, and middle finger digging into the flesh of her cheeks. He forced her face up, either towards the sky or towards him, to see what he found there.

A term that they had used among the Imperium was "mercy killing". Once a soldier outlived their purpose, it was best for them to die. Grey had been sent to kill Cole but, in a coward's act, had refused to do so. Now she suffered worse than he could have every imagined. He thought, for a moment, that it would be better for this redhead to die for no other reason than purpose no longer existed in the Menagerie. There was something about her that made his hair bristle, that made him cold to the quick and apprehensive to boot.

He would be doing her a favor and favors did not come cheap in life, much less in the Menagerie.

But what he saw was an exhausted survivor, an individual who had been dragged through hell but answered such condemnation with a grin. Grey released her without another word, breaking the eye to glance down at the arrow in his side.

He was beginning to slow. The adrenaline of the fight had worn away and, in its place, he felt the steady throb of pain. The arrow was still lodged firmly against his side, something that he had dismissed recklessly mere moments prior. It was probably a miracle that, when he had shifted, it hadn't hurt him more.

His fingers abandoned her face to press against her wrists, just above the handcuffs. He could feel the thrum of her pulse. He found himself looking down at her, noticing that the Rogue had height on Cole. In that instant she looked nothing like his late love and whatever tenderness he may have felt due to the association was banished in favor for resentment. His lip twitched.

"By the way," Grey commented hoarsely. He kept his firm hold on her, equal parts threat and intimacy. "I wasn't too impressed with your little song after our last meeting. I hate to tell you but, darling, you can't sing worth a shit."

In other words, she was too defiant for his taste.

In other words, she was just the right touch of challenge. It kept her intriguing even if he wouldn't admit it and, hey, there wasn't harm in talking to a Rogue out of Carna territory. Grey's smile was as sharp as a knife's edge before he turned away from her and continued to salvage supplies.

"I should have you get on your knees and beg," he said snidely, with an undercurrent of innuendo. It was made worse by their proximity.

"What is your name, Rogue?" He didn't care. He was just gathering information out of habit. Or at least that's what Grey told himself, shoving aside the image of the girl with golden eyes while simultaneously trying to forget Cole peering at him with a mix of desperation and disdain. His hands dropped to his side and he grimaced.

"How about the two of us make a deal?" Grey ventured, although his tone was more demanding than it was questioning. "If you help me with this arrow, I'll let you go. If not, I'll leave you for the Fallen to find." His brow quirked. It was risky, but Grey thought he could manage if she declined his offer. It would be painful, sure, but he could tug the thing out himself and bind it.

Really, this was a test. A test to see if she was worth his time, his apprehension. Something struck a cord in him, something kept him interested.

Maybe it was just her face and the set of her chin, so much like Cole that it hurt him worse than any arrow could.

[ROMA|RED]

His seizing her arms startled her, and she gasped in pain. Stupidly she had struggled the first day of capture and had badly bruised the skin beneath the metal cuffs. His comment on her ‘song’ struck no recollection, and she made no comment in return.

He should make her beg.
It made the corner of her mouth lift, that small spark lighting again at the threat. If that was the road he wanted to go down so be it, but getting her to beg would take work – despite her current condition. Not once since she’d been captured by the Keepers so long ago had she been subjected to a new experience of pain, or even one that was worse than she’d previously undergone.

The man was speaking again. Her name? Her name …

Suddenly, he was making a deal and instantly her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Halfway through his “offer” she snorted, that was no deal it was blackmail. Still, she figured she’d be in easier company with this man than she was being found and blamed for their comrades deaths by the Fallen. They irritated her anyway. A more whiney and conflicted bunch she’d never known in the Menagerie. Her tongue ran across her teeth, trying in vain to clear the grit as she considered her options.

After a huge sigh, Roma rolled her hips as her legs moved and in one fluid (and painful) move she was on her feet again. Her chin was level, her gaze unchallenging but strong. The red heads hands lifted as she put a hand out in a gesture to shake on it.

”Deal,” she said and her eyebrow rose. ”’Sides’,” she said with the lifted corner of her mouth. ”I was startin’ to cook like an egg on the sidewalk anyway.” Her jeans were torn, her boots rough, and her hair tangled … but she’d manage once she had the cuffs off. Her southern accent added sass and she winked.

”Might be that I’d be more game to stay on my knees if someone had bought me supper,” and grinned wolfishly.

"Name's Roma," she said unceremoniously and didn't bother asking for his. "I'd say it's nice to meet you but for one I metchya already. Two, well ..." she winked. "I'll 'jes keep that one to myself." Two, he's an asshole.

Sister Wolf had been sent behind the fence once more, and she didn’t like it. Somewhere between Roma being gone and regaining herself she’d become stronger … but it worried Sister. Content that at least they were not being attacked she was appeased enough to wait it out.

[grey]

Grey had never been any good at bargaining. He didn't process the tact for it nor the patience. Thus, his words typically held the air of demand in them. He was unsurprising when she accepted his offer but he nodded towards her, regardless.

It wasn't as though he had given her another option. This did not keep her from making it seem as though he were playing into her hand, instead. That grin of hers, accompanied by that attitude, had Grey wondering just who was in charge of the situation. Irritated by this, his lip curled into a nasty smile, although no words accompanied it.

He may have broken away from her then, had it not been for her next comment. He turned to look at her, his eyes settling on her face with a sort of finality. He pinned her with his gaze, unblinking, the lupine focus of his animal counterpart. Slowly, but without hesitation, he replied. "Well if you got on your knees, I could offer you some protein for your diet. It would whiten your teeth, too."

From his tone, it was clear that Grey did not have a shred of respect for this rogue. He degraded her, demeaned her. She was a piece of flesh but nothing more.

One that now had a name. Grey snorted. "It has been a pleasure." He was emotionless as he stepped towards her gingerly, grimacing. It was beginning to hurt more and more with each passing second and Grey knew that they were running out of time. He did not offer his name in return. "Get to it, then." He was referring to the arrow as he held his arm up, wincing again, to give her better access to the injury. It was not deep, but the laceration was bad enough that he was bleeding steadily by now--a thick little river down his side, coating the entirety of his shirt.

He could remember Cole doing this to him more times than he could count, typically with a forced air of humor. This was not the same.

[ROMA|RED]

Roma’s shoulders rolled as she stretched the stiffness from her neck when his comment about protein hit her ears and she chuckled. An odd response but it was funny to her, not to mention true. ”Haha, yeah well if’n I take up an offer like that I’d likely look into someone more my type. Less bitter,” she said and eyed him. ”Mayhap a bit deeper in a drink.” Whether she meant her possible prospect or herself she did specify.

When he lifted his arm she smiled and shook her head, chuckling again like there was a joke he’d told that hit her just right. ”A pleasure? It’s been a damned tea party, buster.”

Her fingers in that moment curled around the shaft of the arrow. ”Ready? One.” without hesitation she snapped the wood and pulled the remaining through. ”Two-three,” her tone was dead as she leaned over and pulled a large strip of shirt from one of the dead and pressed it to the Carna’s side without care. The bleeding would stop eventually… hopefully.

”Well look on the bright side! If you have a funeral it will be the greatest day of yer life. People’ll be all sad and ever’thang,” she said. ”We have gathered here,” she began in a deep tone with somberness in her voice. ”To celebrate the life of … some guy. May he rest in peace Jesus, ahhhh men.”

During this exchange Sister Wolf had become still once more, her anxiousness and worry rolling off Roma like water off a duck back. ”Then again, mayhap you don’t have anyone left. That’s alright … I’d say somethin’ nice.” The strange part, was that she wasn’t kidding. She would say something nice. ”Mama taught me that no one is as bad, or as good as you think they are. So I’m sure you have something good aboutchya,” the hazardous look he gave her caused her eyes to narrow. ”Way, way .... WAY deep, deep down …” she amended.

[grey]

He could not help but hitch his brows up at that. "Who said I was bitter?" A small, immature part of him wanted to ask as to whether or not she thought he was attractive. The rest of him protested the shallowness of the notion, so that Grey shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. Which was not difficult, considering the "task at hand" was a remarkably painful one.

"A tea party without tea, sure." Even as his eyes flicked to assess the bodies around them, and then stretched to encompass their surroundings. He feared that there would be a Fallen patrol at any moment; Grey forced himself to take a steadying breath, trying to delve back into memories of when patrols went where. This was difficult to do, considering the fact he was certain McKellar had changed them since the last time Grey had been among their ranks--

Shit. The sharp pain left him breathless. The entirety of his expression clenched, his body tensing as his teeth grit against teeth. It did him little good, and he found himself immensely grateful that she had yanked it free. But Grey did not admit this, even to himself--it would require swallowing more pride than he was willing.

Thus, he remained slightly hunched even after the arrow had been removed, trying to catch his breath. After a few seconds he succeeded, only to get the energy to turn towards her with a skeptical eye. "Grey," he said wearily, and after a pause. He had not wanted to tell her his name; names, in a way, gave people power of another individual. "Not some guy. My name is Grey." He felt slightly better having said it. He would not be Stark to her; oh, no. He would never be Stark to her, as he had been to Cole. Something about that--although Grey could not say what--was relieving.

He eventually managed to shove his thoughts of pain to the recesses of his mind. With that done, he began to scrounge up the remaining supplies littering the deceased Fallen. He stooped to close the eyes of the dead, hesitating now and then to register their features. He did so methodically, searching their pockets with a certain kind of precision. Eventually he produced a key and had a pack fully loaded with supplies to return to Carna. He turned back towards Roma, having ignored her talk thus far. He moved to unlock her wrists, wincing as he did so.

Grey had been thinking on what she had said, however. He could not help but consider it rather harshly, discovering that he disagreed. "There's no good in me," he informed her, after having unlocked the handcuffs. "So don't bother with saying anything nice. I've been nothing but a dick towards you." He arched his brow. It wasn't an apology, and he certainly didn't deliver it like one.

"Come on, lets get out of here before they catch up with us." He adjusted the pack, grimacing again. He was atypically pale.

[ROMA|RED]

Grey. It was a fitting name, for it was descriptive in Roma’s opinion as well as his title. There was a gloominess about the man that made Roma yearn for the sun. As he shuffled about Roma had taken a seat on a rock and, chin in palm, had watched the Carna man shuffle through the dead’s belongings and pilfer the useful items When he approached her, she looked up. With the freedom of her wrists she remained seated as his words murmured self-condemnation. He was wrong. It wasn’t a thought of a sniveling girl grateful to her rescuer, and it wasn’t that he’d unlocked her cuffs, no. It was the occasional hurt in his eyes, the care that he look unlocking her wrists that he hadn’t even realized he used. No doubt this man was an asshole, through and through but her Mama was never wrong … and the fact that she weren’t as dead as the bodies around them proved the point further. Never. She would never tell him this. There was a sense that he was more comfortable with himself in such a light, and to push him into thinking differently of himself might back him into a corner to prove his point … which likely would be her not breathing anymore. When he turned and walked away, the corner of Roma’s mouth lifted as it did often and once he’d started off with a half-genuine offer for her to follow she realized he shouldn’t be left alone. Infection, blood loss, attacks, or even misfit melancholies were all ways he could take a trip to the big ranch in the sky. Before the woman thought better of it, she’d heaved herself back onto her feet and followed Grey. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, someone had to watch him for a time, and she owed him thrice over: Once for not killing her on the border weeks ago, twice for not killing her this time around, and thrice for setting her free. Thus far, she’d only done him one favor, and her Mama would roll over her in her grave at the thought of Roma Partholain owing anyone a debt – regardless of how much of a tool he was. Tired and thoughtful, Roma kept her trap shut for a long time while she followed Grey who knew where. It had been maybe an hour when Sister Wolf freaked out and Roma almost shifted in place. Danger, Sister insisted, and Roma froze to listen carefully. ”Pssst, we need a place to hunker down a few. We’ve got company and I don’t think either of us are fit to make a run for it,” she hissed in a whisper. Her eyes had shifted into a liquid gold again and they darted about for a hiding place. Luckily, Sister recalled a crick not far from where they were and a cave higher up in the craggy rocks. Quickly, she scooped up some of his booty (half to help him carry it, and half to insure he’d follow her). ”This way,” she whispered and limped hurriedly to the South.

[grey]

There was a whole lot of different things that said about "pain is just weakness leaving the body" and "overall your trials will make you stronger". Grey would have liked to call bullshit on each and every one of those inspirational sayings. Each step became a struggle as they left Fallen territory behind. Each breath sent a jab of agony through him.

He contemplated as to whether or not he ought to have tried healing himself, but quickly dismissed the idea. The Keepers had an ironic sense of humor being that they had given him both the metaphorical tough of death and the metaphorical touch of life. Grey often confused the two of them, having not had enough practice with either. He would as soon heal himself as he would send radiation into his heart--he was uncertain as to if he was immune to his own ability, but did not want to test the theory through trial and error. However, his thoughts were often broken up by the fact that he was still bleeding.

I should be more worried about this, he thought frankly. But he didn't feel concerned. It hurt more than anything; the pain did not cloud his mind as much as he thought it would have, but it certainly distracted him from the task at hand.

That being said, she noticed danger before he did. Grey's pride would have stung at this had he bothered to register it. Instead, he merely heeded her, albeit with apprehension. Regardless, he issued a low growl when she took one of his bags.

There wasn't much else to do but follow her, his free hand (gloved, of course) was pressed to his side. A few minutes later he was climbing up a rocky incline, not just feeling the pain of his ribs but also the sudden tinges of old injuries. He managed, eventually, so as to find himself in a cramped space with Roma practically breathing down his neck. It was damp and dark, their knees pressed tight together as well as their other limbs. In the darkness of the alcove, his skin gave off a very faint glow.

"Shit." She had wriggled, readjusting into a more comfortable possession. In the process she had managed to hit him quite squarely in the groin. Grey spent the next few seconds trying to regain his breath. "I-I hope this wasn't an excuse to cop a feel," he managed snidely. His ribs continued to pound. "What the hell danger did you think was out there?" Grey asked, tempering his voice to be slightly more pleasant. They were not on Carna territory; he did not have to be as defensive as prior, although that didn't mean he liked her any more.

She still had Nycole's hair, albeit ten times darker. This close, he could smell her. It was not the soft, feminine odor of a woman outside of the Menagerie. Instead it was sweat and the sweltering scent of the desert, accented by blood. He imagined he didn't smell much better.

[ROMA|RED]

Roma snorted through her nose and flashed him a dimpled wolfish smile as she bit her bottom lip inches from his face, ”Oh baby you know it,” she said with irony. At that moment there was another change of space between them and his face ended up a little closer to her chest than she was sure he was comfortable with. ”Look who’s talkin’ cowboy,” she said and settled herself hip to hip with him. ”And … I’m not sure. I just knew there were people close and since we ain’t suppose to be here I thought it’d be better to high-tail-it and hide in cahoots.” I’m startin’ to regret that decision with a quickness, she thought to herself. There were footsteps and voices. The water nearby was fortunate, as they had covered their smell quite efficiently through the murky water. Roma held her breath an remained still. Sister Wolf in the back of her mind’s hackles came up and her hand went to her throat as if to suppress the growl Sister issued in her conscious. After all was quite a while, she turned to Grey. ”You need some patchin’ up and rest …” she began and stopped. ”Is … is there anythang we can use that you pilfered off them dead Fallen?” Like rags, or medicine, or … anything? ”I don’t know nuthin’ bout docterin’ but I’ve sewn up my fare share a’ stiches? Or would burnin’ it be better? Hurt more but,” she shrugged then made a face at him. ”I thank you could handle it.” Her southern twang tended to grow thicker the more she talked. There was another shuffle of boots and she froze, listening, listening … until they were gone again.

[grey]

Her teeth were a flash of white in the relative dimness of the alcove, an expression that was unmistakably lupine. Grey remained unimpressed; maybe it was because she had just racked him, or maybe it was because he was never impressed with anybody. "You know," Grey began. "That's a form of assault. I could have you arrested for that if there were any damn police." He was speaking as they moved, unaware until it had occurred that his face almost rested across her breasts. He may have been harsh, but he was still a man and he certainly wasn't immune to the view; but shifted (both to a relief and disappointment) and the pair of them finally settled into a comfortable positions. Like puzzle pieces clicking, he thought with a mental sneer. 

He did not reply to her, although a dubious part of his mind was questioning her usage of the word cahoots. Instead he stiffened, as an animal would before it fled or fought. He could hear the shuffling as easily as Roma and he turned his head towards the entrance of the small cave. Grey could have sworn he saw boots appear and he was already dropping his uninjured arm to rest against the sheath of his tactical knife. Even that caused his head to swim; the ground tipped out below and his side was tweaked painfully. Grey's breath caught and, when he finally dismissed the pain, he could think only how had someone attacked them, he would have been useless. He felt sick with this knowledge. Or maybe the nausea was a direct result of his injury.

Grey was aware that Roma was speaking, but his eyes remained locked on the entrance. That didn't mean that they were seeing. Instead he could remember the fever and staring as the curtain in the doorway was drawn back, casting light over his face. It was a mujahidin shapeshifter and Nycole, young and girlish back then. 

The memory came as lightening did; in a vibrant flash of color, followed shortly by sound. "Stark?" 

He shook his head to clear it, brought back to coherence by the drawl of the Texan beside him. "One of them had a medic kit," he told her. "It was in the bag you took a second ago." He knew that it would be stupid to refuse her help, even if Grey didn't trust her. By now, he figured that she was indebted to him and she seemed honest enough of a woman, albeit... odd. Something about Roma kept his guarded, although that was not atypical when Grey dealt with strangers or rogues. She had helped him this far and it did not appear as though she were in a hurry to leave him be. Grey turned toward her in the dark, gingerly drawing his shirt up and over his head. It had been soaked with blood. 

He could not shake the memory as it continued to well up, distracting him; it was too similar! Grey could remember the small, closed walls of the house as it was rocked by a mortar in the near distance. The curtain dropped and darkness flooded everything. He could hear shuffling from outside of the room, as Cole talked with the mujahidin. When she came to him it was to tend to the wounds ravaging his side, the room so small that her breath was his breath and his breath was her breath. Between wakefulness and unconsciousness, pain and victory, him and her. In this space, he could feel every line of Roma's side against his own. In this space, he could not tell where his body began and hers ended. 

Grey was sweating in the small space, anxious that whoever lurked outside would find them, and they would not be the friendly mujahidin. "Just burn it," he heard himself saying, in a quiet but angry whisper. "There wasn't a needle in the kit, anyway." He had remembered checking before, the arrow in his side a reminder that he ought to. Subconsciously he had edged the knife from its place at his belt, resting it in the palm of his hand. His eyes returned to the door, his head cocked so as to better listen. 

[ROMA|RED]

Roma chuckled, an almost wicked sound in such close quarters that lightly echoed in the darkness. He was such a baby, arrest her. Hell, she’d probably give the cops a wink and a smile and she’d be home free. In fact back home she’d either dated or grew up with all the cops in town … she’d yet been behind bars (no matter what trouble she’d gotten into.) ”Honey, you are the first man I’ve met that’s complained about bein’ assaulted by lil’ ol’ me,” she snorted … but let it go at that. Grey seemed to be ‘concentrating’ on something, and the redhead bit her lip and rolled her eyes with a huff of irritation that feathered her curls. This man was wound tighter than a church boy on his weddin’ day … maybe he was from New York. With his mention of the medic bag she cocked a hip and lifted her pelvis up to haul the bag she’d been sitting on into her lap, vaguely grumbling to herself about the men she’d rather be stuck in a hole with. This one was like a cornered cat, spittin’ and cussin’ and swipin’ and all the while lookin’ for a place to escape. When she opened the bag, she fished through some things but hadn’t really known what she was lookin’ for. Unflappable with the male anatomy, Roma took no more notice to Grey’s shedding of clothing than if it were a pair a’ boots. What did catch her attention was the smell of blood, and the sweat, the closeness of them, and the heat. The scuffle of feet above them had been gone for several minutes, and when he told her to burn it - her hands lowered from the search of the med kit. Back on the ranch when they had to burn something, they’d just used the flat branding iron. Even a knife would take fire, and she said as much. ”Well, it ain’t gonna happen with them buggers up there. Once they scat, I can build a fire up to heat a blade,” she said quietly. ”’sides, we should probly jes’ bind it up fer now and let you rest. Unless you wanna pass out,” her fingers twitched in want of a cigarette. ”You look like yer fixin’ to already.” Her brown eyes assessed him: sweaty, tired, angry, hazy, frustrated, and unless she missed her guess, it’d been a while since he’d buttered a muffin. She sighed heavily and looked again into the bag, producing some extra cloth, antiseptic, and a flask. She winked at him as she jiggled the container. ”Bes’ thang I know fer pain of all kinds darlin’,” her use of the word ‘darlin’’ more ironic than affectionate but figured it might rile him anyway. Such a touchy bugger.

[grey]

As they arranged themselves into a position that could pass as comfortable--at least she didn't have any elbows digging into his sides--Grey took a steadying breath. His eyes were on her and remained there, unwavering, in the form of an almost lupine stare. Cole had told him once that he did it to unnerve people, although it was always unintentional. He licked his chapped lips and offered a hoarse laugh in reply, perhaps one of his first. "You assault men often?" Grey asked snidely, but without true bite behind the comment. It seemed as though the two of them were stuck and he had come to this realization with a kind of begrudging acceptance. There was nothing he could do to change it, at the moment, and Grey ought to have been thankful that she was not a more hostile Menagerie resident. 

If he were being honest with himself, he had certainly been stuck with worse. Half of the men or women among the Imperium had been volatile or, if not volatile, then dumb. Grey had always made due with his companions and he would do so now, as well. "I'm not sure I trust you enough to pass out." Grey shrugged at his own honesty but the motion jarred his injury. His breath caught and he was genuinely thankful when she handed him the flask, accepting it with a gracious nod. However, Grey did not exactly fit the picture of "gracious", not with his face streaked in dirt and sweat and blood. His eyes seemed startlingly bright against, offset by the contrasting colors. He still stared at her, almost imploringly, with a sort of curiosity that was almost unabashed. He was still angry and irritable but it was no longer directed so strongly at Roma. He looked less like a man and more like a wild thing, visceral in nature. His impulsiveness and rage simply supported that image. 

He was quiet for a long moment after that. He took a long swing of the alcohol, grimacing when he swallowed. He could not remember the last time that he had had anything to drink aside from water, if he were being honest, and he could remember why that was. There was nothing appealing about the sharp bite except for the promise of alleviating his pain. He gestured for her to tend to his wounds as well as she was able to. 

Grey watched her as she worked, trying to organize his thoughts. He did not know what to think of her, this flirtatious rogue. She helped him despite the fact that Grey had done nothing but treat her with distaste. She had been an inconvenience to him both times they had met; what else did she expect? His kindness? Grey grit his teeth as antiseptic was applied to his injuries and tried to think of anything beside the pain. For the first time he wondered about her, not for any other reason then the fact that he had not done so yet. She had earned--Grey would not go far as to say deserved--that much, at least. 

"Thanks," Grey said, hoarsely. It was quiet again before he asked the first question that came to mind. "You're from Texas, aren't you?" He had been there once or twice but he knew enough of the stereotypes to make a guess. "Or at least the western part of the U.S." The second was a statement instead of a question. 

[ROMA|RED]

There was a moment, when inhuman grey eyes settled on hers. At first she thought it a challenge, sparking her fiery will. However, the longer the milliseconds ticked by the quicker she realized it was unlike a simple dominance challenge. As a child, Roma was renowned for strays. It seemed every other week she was dragging home a dog hit by a car, a starving cat, or a neighborhood kid too scared to go home after dark. There was a look in their eyes … something she couldn’t quite name. It was regressive but not hostile, desperate but not begging, imploring but without apology. In a quiet rage it reflected now in Gray’s grey hues and Roma stared until she remembered herself and looked down. To challenging a cornered creature would do as well as ask it for its claws; she’d learned that the hard way. With his permission to tend to his wounds she balked but for a moment. Roma didn’t take orders, but in a display of rare patience she bit her lip and tended as best she could. He wiggled here and there, but she managed to get it clean and covered. By that time he’d taken a few swallows of the booze and was feeling a bit more relaxed … thank the Lord. Surprisingly he asked about her. After a slight pause she nodded about being from Texas, then frowned about being from the West. ”Uh, yeah well I ain’t no Westerner … I actually like to get my feet wet. I’m from what we call the South, Moan Capi-tann.” He obviously assumed he was in charge of this mission, and as a result left-handedly Roma decided to express her opinion about being ordered around. Finished with the bandaging, she set back. Her molars gripped the inside of her cheek; for a playful punishment she would make it a point not to ask him anything about himself. Hell with it, if he wanted to volunteer information she couldn’t stop him, but conversation was for … well people you liked, and Roma wasn’t all that certain whether she liked him enough for that business. Her brown eyes couldn’t help but slide back to regard him almost begrudgingly. She certainly felt something but whether it was good or bad she didn't know quite yet.

[grey]

She held his gaze in a way that very few did and for a moment Grey could recollect the moment he had met her as a wolf; her eyes had been gold then and so feral that he wondered if she was a girl at all. He shook himself of the memory because it was only a memory. He had learned that they had a penchant for being over-exaggerated, anyway, which could very well mean that he had imagined the animalistic nature of her gaze in the past. I could have sworn, he could not help but think. That I saw her eyes flash yellow. 

The idea made him want to laugh at himself. He had gone mad because of blood-loss and the heat, obviously. Grey took one last drink from the flask before he handed it back to her, contemplating her answer. I'm an idiot, he thought. It was what he got for assuming things. At least one of his guesses had been right. "Moan Capi-tann?" Grey repeated, although he drawled the word. He felt as though the term were more sarcastic than anything but he did not care enough at the moment to confront it. "What's the difference between the South and the West? Aren't they practically the same, except for one has more dirt and less grass?" Cole was not from that part of the country and she had never spoken to him about it.

Besides, whenever work had carried them that far they had navigational devices and clear orders. He had never spent the time to learn the differences in culture. Grey had always assumed that most American's were the same because, in essence, they were. Consumers and politicians and individuals with egos larger than their bodies. He'd been warned to stray from stereotypes but he could not help it. Grey shifted, edging into a slightly more comfortable position as he watched her. After a moment of contemplation he reached for his knives and began to clean them of blood, lest the blades rusted. It would be harder to clean them once they were dry and the mindless habit relaxed him. 

[ROMA|RED]

When he repeated her she looked at him and rose a brow; a silent ‘yeah, and?’ kind of look. The back of her hand smooshed against her itchy nose and she sniffed before the taking the bottle back from him. Taking a large swig of the liquor she almost choked on it when he asked her what the difference was between the South and the West. Was he serious? Roma’s wide eyes blinked rapidly as they watered, and she swallowed before she could spit out the precious liquid. An impressive reproach on her freckled face accused him of being dense, ”That’s like askin’ the difference between a horse and a donkey. Sure they can breed but they ain’t the same species.” Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Where the hell you from anyway?” Her previous amendment not to ask him questions about himself seemed absolved instantly for curiosity’s sake and all at once her attention was rapt. Too unfamiliar with other cultures to speculate where he might hail from, she could only fix him with a quizzical gaze. Maybe he was from ‘cross the waters in Britain, or hell even China wouldn’t surprise her. Not for the first time Roma began to regret the time she had spent ... 'away' whilst in the Menagerie. Sister Wolf had kept them alive, and as a result anyone they might have met or talked to was utterly gone from her memory. 'Sides, Sister wouldn't have talked to anyone anyway. The thought caused the lupine to stir in the back of Roma's mind. While not in control Sister felt caged, and depending on the situation paced or slept the time away until she was released again. Well, released or given the opportunity to take hold. It was an unwritten acceptance and disagreement between the two that they never could quite settle on. Focusing on the now, her own body shifted in the cramped space - attempting to move her wide set hips to give him more room. Realizing what she was doing she instantly hefted her weight back where it was with a mental grunt. If she couldn't be comfortable why should he?

[grey]

Grey did not expect her adamant reply. It was like he had offended her family rather than her... what was it, even? Region of life? He shrugged to himself and stored that information away for later use. You don't call a Southerner a Westerner. They were all Americans for Christ's sake! He lifted his hands as though in surrender, laughing until he registered the fact that the movement hurt his ribs. He could not help but become somber in the face of her query, however; Grey's smile fell and his eyes became guarded once more, those of an animal. He thought of how to answer her truthfully until he realized that he would never have a truthful answer for that unless he said the first thing on his mind; nowhere, everywhere. He had been to every continent, to most countries, but he identified with none of them. An answer like that would not have satisfied anyone's curiosity and he knew that. "I was born in Germany but I moved around a lot as a kid." Hence the impeccable English. Grey was an expert actor--at least he thought he was--and he could have pretended to be from any country he wanted to, if it came to that. Obviously not Western or Southern America, though, he thought with an exaggerated mental scoff. 

He had nothing else to say besides that. He returned the knives back to their positions at his belt and looked at her curiously, almost saddened by the fact that she could identify with the place she had been raised while he could not. He felt no loyalty to his country or to the city he had been born; indifference was a more apt term, in fact. It did not matter, Grey assumed. He shrugged off the idealistic thoughts and shifted a second time, after she budged and then moved back to her same position. 

I haven't left a good impression on her, Grey noticed. He hated the fact that, all of a sudden, he wanted to leave her a good one. Had she not proven herself to him? I don't know anything about her. He was practically arguing at himself at that point and his pained expression showed it. He glanced away, down toward his hands, before looking up again. He could think of nothing else to ask her or to say and the conversation became awkward, at least on his part. Perhaps because there was no conversation. 

[ROMA|RED]

When he told her he was from Germany she had to almost physically stop herself from asking if he was related to Hitler, (more because it was almost the only thing that she knew about Germany than because she was being mean) however she managed to keep her trap shut and nodded - as if it made sense that he’d moved around a lot. She would have had to actually know something about him for anything he said to make sense … and well, she knew absolutely nothing. She couldn’t help, however, noticing that his demeanor seemed to have changed a touch. He was no longer looking at her like the growling dog that had cornered him, and in fact appeared to be warming up … so to speak. Then again, she found liquor usually had that effect one people. Either that or she should threaten to burn people more often. It had been some time now that the footsteps above and left and she made a motion in the growing darkness for him to stay put. Shifting painfully forward onto her palms she stiffly forward on all four toward the low mouth of the crevice. It would have been a compliment to call the damn thing a cave. Once she reached the entrance a few feet away, she tentatively gave Sister Wolf the reins. Like the stretch of muscles that have been sitting too long, the delicious feeling of Sister slipping past her mind made Roma smile as Sister spread into their lupine body. In reality it had not been that long, but it always seemed forever to Sister. Gilded hues remained gazing out the cave, a mock of concentration (though not entirely) on what lay outside. Sister had already known there was no one out there before they’d even shifted, but Roma was becoming uncomfortable and Sister always ended up being her answer. Slipping down to the rocks into the open, the night creatures were beginning to wake up and their relaxation told Sister there was nothing around for a least a few miles. They needed to make camp, get Gray fixed up, and they BOTH could use a serious nap. After scouting a bit followed by a disagreement about ditching the man on the way back, Sister reluctantly gave back the controls to Roma and she smoothly shifted back into the sassy red head as she hefted herself back into the cave. Telling Gray all was clear, she carefully loaded herself down with all the gear. She was still hurt and very tired, but Gray was still in bad shape and would need to give all his strength to simply getting out of the cave and getting to a campsite. Roma licked her lips and winced from the split she found there, what had she gotten herself into? In the darkness, her eyes lightened just a touch before they moved off to find a safer and more comfortable place to rest.

END THREAD