welcome to your new hell, Welcome to the Menagerie. Or as we like to call it, Dome Sweet Dome! We are an eight-year strong futuristic shapeshifter and sci-fi creature roleplay, dedicated to bringing you a world unlike any other; a world in which your character has become an experiment and must fight for survival in a domed city, cut off from the rest of the world. Choose to be any animal in your fight for survival in an artificial world built by the Keepers as they subject you to experiments beyond your control. Choose to wander the world inside the walls alone, as a Rogue, or find safety in numbers in one of the groups known as Rings. How will you survive?
60 - 65 ºF
blustery with scattered showers spotty sunshine
YEAR 2309
shift bans.
» Cougars (aka Puma, Mountain Lion, Panther)
» All Tiger Species
» All Lion Species
» All Wolf Species
» African Leopards
group bans.
none.
encouraged !
FEMALE CHARACTERS! create a RETRO or ANTHRO and get 250 CP + a free skill! read me for more info!
last updated: april 19th, 2016
Click on each Ring or Retro group image to view their ranks!
GROUP UPDATES
CARNARING
Jocelyn Edelwolfe is the new Alpha! Seija Mulviene is the new Beta, and Grey is the new Delta. Lead Hunter is now Boone Haywood, Head of Border Patrol is now Noelle Ndango!
FALLENRING
-
FULSIRING
Fulsi has a standing treaty with the Nakoma, granting limited access to their fresh water.
NAKOMA TRIBE
-
ANALOYA PRIDE
a while back, the Analoya suffered a suspicious poisoning of their river, luckily with few casualties; the Bellator are suspected of having taken part in it, and there are whispers that Pride leader Wanderer is talking alliance with the Nilda for access to their clean water.
BELLATOR HERD
As new leader of the Bellator, Loril has instituted some rank changes. See this thread for more information!
LAWAII FLOCK
no updates!
NILDA PACK
no updates!
CARNARING QUICK STATS
ALPHA -- Jocelyn Edelwolfe, Clouded Leopard, played by IronChild
BETA -- Seija Mulviene, Spotted Hyena, played by Seija-chan
DELTA --Grey, Mackenzie Valley Wolf, played by Kriss
_______________________________________________
Zivon "Lyric" Shikov had traded one good thing for another, and he continued to wonder if it was worth it. He had something he hadn't in the past. Power, drive. Ambition. Leena had told him, once, that ambition was the only thing he lacked. He was... Well, everything that he had told Eris was true. He wasn't willing to sacrifice what he had, nor was he going to abandon his Ring for something that was fleeting, as much as he hated to admit it. Leena--and her name was like a brand to his mind--had taught him that. He continued to doubt himself, his motivations, not towards Carna but towards her. Aurora was an addiction, but he had spent months without her company, and he'd managed to make it through. It hurt, but so did everything.
That didn't prevent Lyric's hand from going to the pendant she had given him, out of habit. He would trace the letters of the word carved there, thinking of how bittersweet it was, how much of a truth and a lie it could be. Pravda. Truth and justice, truth and justice. It never worked like that, though.
There was another Russian word that he had never told her, and it was tattooed onto his skin at the back of his neck. Sitting privately in the dark, he raised hand and traced the letters. Toska. It was a noun. It, at its most rough translation, meant sadness or melancholy. He was thinking about that word as he waited for her arrival, his elbows leaning on the table in the Speakeasy, the dim light of the lantern flooding the room. He could see the dusty bottles, the ravaged bartop, the disorderly chairs. It smelled dank. He couldn't stay long, but he had made an effort, because the absence of Aurora had become maddening. Not maddening enough for him to break, though. He... He grit his teeth, because he had dedicated himself to Carna, and he wasn't going to let some sort of dismal affair ruin that for him.
Dismal.
That didn't fit right.
It had been a chore of sorts, he supposed, to get the information necessary for him to meet her. And for him to find the time. He was well-aware of Manic's disdain for anthromorphs, and Lyric had come to a point where displeasing his Alpha was akin to... well. He couldn't say that he had ever feared or admired someone so much, and he didn't want to face either his wrath or disappointment of Manic. So Lyric had kept his distance. He had scanned the border of Nakoma whenever he had the opportunity, without being obvious, and occasionally he ran across her scent. The night prior, Lyric had painstakingly snuck into the territory and to where she was staying, following her scent to do so. He had masked his own smell with a mixture of aromas, things he had just picked up, colognes and so on. If nothing else, it would muddle any pursuer, and he made sure that when he returned to Carna territory he looped around, and quickly took a bath to avoid questioning from his fellows.
His mind went back to the night before. He had seen her briefly, and had not touched her or spoken much. Merely told her to meet him at the Speakeasy tonight. He was still waiting for her, and had taken one of his KA-Bar's out of his pocket to take chunks out of the tabletop, impatient and nervous. He was afraid nothing would be the same. He was afraid everything would be the same. That he would see her, and he would be filled with paradoxes and confusion and a bone-deep affection that hurt him as often as it helped him. He bit the inside of his cheek when he heard the sound of the door above opening, and the soft footfalls of someone above--then the descent down the dark stairwell. His heart was thudding.
When he saw her, he knew what toska meant. It was all shades of sadness, of longing for something that was impossible or unspecified. Because when Lyric looked at her, he simply ached. He did not ache to touch her, or ache to talk to her. He just ached. Ly smiled, and it was a sad smile, but it met his eyes. "Moy golubushka."
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
It had taken a long, long time but eventually Aurora had begun to breathe again. With the winter snows melting into spring, life seemed to return to both the girl and world. She had made a new friend in Nakoma, had started getting to know her Ring and appreciated their help and patience. It had not been easy. So many nights had left Aurora with horrible dreams, reliving memories both bitter and sweet … but most of all she missed Lyric.
One of the things she had taken up was reading. There weren’t many books but she missed the library she’d had back in England and reading helped to distract her. She had also planted a small garden … one that had been torn apart in the middle of the night, but she had set her chin and plugged forward, weeding and caring for the plants that remained.
Too … she continued to draw, and write. Her sketching had been refrained to birds, or flowers. At first she had allowed herself to draw other things. Lyric in both forms, her music box from home, her maid that she missed, but eventually she found that focusing on what she had made her happier.
Since she had said her goodbyes to Lyric, she had known two things. One, that she would see him again and two, that when she did … she had to be different, stronger. Her memories of their time together were precious, and she was determined to make more memories with smiles and laughter. He needed that.
When Lyric had snuck into Nakoma and found her it had been at night, while she gazed at the stars. He had not even stayed long enough for her dark eyes to settle on him before telling her to meet him at the Speakeasy the next night, and vanishing in the darkness.
Aurora had been so excited, taking the day and using the things she had collected to surprise him with her present. Oh the present. She hoped he liked it, and now that she had all the things she needed she could finally do it … put on a performance.
She had taken the time to wash, do her hair up in a pretty barrette, and slip on a dress she had found and fixed. Over the top went a large old coat and a pair of shoes that were a size too big and didn’t quite match. Still, she felt more beautiful and elaborate than when she had worn her Mav Devali dress from Paris and her favorite canary diamond jewelry back in Hampshire.
Reaching the Speakeasy had been trivial compared to when she had to fight through the snow, and now as she descended the dark steps into the bar area, nostalgia washed over her. Stepping down each step carefully, she finally reached the bottom and her dark eyes lifted to see Lyric and she paused. She had to stop. She had to gain her bearings. If she had not, she would have flown across the room and into his arms with abandon. Her hand gripped the railing and she let out a breath she had been holding from the doorway and a soft smile curved her lips when he called her his dove.
Slowly she looked down to take the last few stairs and reached the ground level. Her wing tips dragged the floor beneath the coat that she wore, causing a quiet rustle that stopped as suddenly as she did. Aurora had looked up again, meeting that liquid gold gaze of his and she couldn’t help it. Her care and trepidation lifted as she rushed the last few feet across the floor and ran to him. She crashed into him, her arms squeezing his middle tight with her head pressed against his chest. Breathing him in, she squeezed and shut her eyes.
”Hi,” she said quietly – the word muffled against his shirt.
Lyric had made a resolution when he had come here. A requirement that would make it alright, untraceable. He would not touch her. He would not get his scent on her (or vice versa) and he would not incriminate himself by being near her. Seeing her though, it weakened whatever resolve he had, and when she came towards him he embraced her without thinking. Lyric held her close to him, pressed his face into her hair, and closed his eyes. There were no problems. It was fine. It would all be fine.
"Hi." Lyric shot the word back at her, his voice soft. The world came crashing back in. Carna, Delta. Two words. They messed this whole thing up he had with her, but... He could linger for a moment longer, just a moment longer, breathing in the clean smell of her and thinking of how long it had been. But then Lyric reached out, lifted her chin, and kissed her. It was soft and brief, after which he held her out at arm's length, his hands on her shoulders. "I have missed you."
He had a thousand things on the tip of his tongue that he could tell her. How his "promotion" was going, how... But he had realized something. Aurora and his Ring had to be separate, and that was how it would always have to be. He released her with a sad smile, and looked her over out of reflex, checking for injuries or anything out of place. But she looked... healthy. Well-fed, well taken care of. Maybe healthier than when he had been seeing her regularly, and that just reminded him why this was better. There was a glow in her cheeks, either attributed by the lanternlight or the spring sun. "You got a new dress." A statement, not a question. Lyric looked at her questioningly, beginning to note just how carefully she seemed put together.
But he couldn't say anything different about himself. He was clean, and wearing clothes without bloodstains, which was about as "dressed up" as he got anymore. He didn't know why. He didn't need to impress her, but it just felt like... like a formal occasion.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
Aurora’s contented smile remained when his fingers lifted her chin and he kissed her. It was soft and brief, but she felt it right down to her toes. As held her away from him she beamed, not needing words to express the mutual feeling. His eyes searched her, and she allowed him to. She had been trying to eat more, staying out during the day, and doing her best to care for herself. There was something important Lyric was doing, and in order for her to help him she had to do what she could to keep his mind off her. It was a sad understanding, but the fact that he made the effort to see her made her soul sing.
When he commented on her dress, she gasped and bounced once – causing her wings to rustle across the floor again as she nodded emphatically and held up a finger, in a “wait a second” gesture she had learned from Molly. How could she have forgotten! She had been practicing, and more than ever wanted to sing for him.
Her heels clicked across the wooden floor as she turned to survey the sets of broken chairs and tables, then rushed into action. With a light puff of effort, she managed to push two tables together and dragged a chair back near where Lyric now stood. She halted in her movements. Her head tilted, and she scurried around into the chair and sat down to assess the tables across the room. Jumping from the chair she pushed it forward a few inches, then hurried back over to Lyric.
Her smile was excited as she took his hand, and here she did not rush. Holding his hand was happiness for her, and she savored the few steps to the chair before, with reluctance, she released him. After ushering him to sit, she scurried back across the floor and paused in her mission yet again.
Facing away from him, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before pulling the coat from her shoulders and releasing her feathers. Her large wings flicked out, and fluttered as she leaped from ground, to chair, to tables and fluttered gracefully in readiness.
It was then that one might have realized she stood beneath a hole from the floor above, where the moon on that clear night lit the tables like a stage. Her dress was dark and strapless, with folds of material in the skirt to look the part of a ball gown. Sequins here and there added just the right touch. Her hair was fixed up on one side with a jeweled barrette but otherwise flowed free down one shoulder. Somewhere, she had found a lip stain and a bit of charcoal to tastefully highlight her features … and as her wings settled, Aurora took a deep breath.
Her body swayed as if the music was made from her, her arms slowly weaving through the air as she expressed a song long gone. Her voice echoed through the speakeasy, and the acoustics hit just right where Lyric sat across the room in his chair.
The song had been originally performed by a powerful singer, belting the notes to stumbling levels, but Aurora sweetened it - drifting in and out of the notes flawlessly and elegantly. Link To Song If she had been honest with herself, the stage set up was as much for herself as it was Lyric. She had missed performing … she had loved to sing, but loved it best when she could sing it for someone she cared for.
As the song flowed to its end, Aurora’s wings lowered and the last note hung in the air for many breathes after she had finished. There she stood atop the table, so concerned with what Lyric would think she looked almost lost. Her dark eyes were fixated on the figure sitting in the chair, hoping he didn’t call her silly, or tell her that she had wasted time, or that it had been too loud and would bring danger down upon them. She waited, breathless.
His comment on her dress sent her into a flurry of motion, one that caused him to arch a brow in amusement. He let her lead him to the seat, relishing the simple gesture. Lyric watched her, then, uncertain of what she was planning on doing. She turned, dropped the jacket, showed her wings, and his breath caught in his chest. He had missed her. He had missed every single one of her gestures, every feather on those damned blackbird wings, every hair on her head--
She made it to the table tops, and began to sing. He didn't recognize the song, but it made him still. Lyric sat, his hands in his lap, his back straight, his face attentive. He had never seen her sing like this, like it was a performance rather than something to calm him, or express herself. And it was beautiful. If he wanted to, he could have easily imagined her standing in front of thousands of people, preforming. But he didn't want to. He wanted it to just be her and him, in one endless moment. He kept his eyes on her face.
It ended, and so did the glamour. She was no longer some distant, mysterious woman with a gorgeous voice. She became his Rory again, looking... He didn't know for certain. He offered her a smile, and clapped several times, slowly. Was she waiting for his approval? That's what it seemed like, and for some reason that made him sad. "I knew you could sing," he said. "But I didn't know you could sing like that. It was beautiful, Rory."
He stood, almost hesitantly, and started towards her. He found himself looking up at her for a change, and he was thinking that this is too good to be true. He had to remind himself that it wouldn't happen often. I wish I could take her with me. He thought, as he offered a hand to help her down. But he knew that Carna would ruin her, and it was impossible, anyway.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
She returned his smile with one of her own, and when he clapped his hands her eyes lit up. At his compliment, she curtsied – a smooth and flourished movement that she had been taught as a little girl and when he came near and offered his assistance, her small and found his. She jumped gracefully chair to floor with a light bounce and there she took pause and looked up into his face.
Before setting a single foot into the Speakeasy, Aurora had coached herself on being good. She had never been one to complain, but she had resolved all the more to remain happy to see him and save her sadness for later. But as her eyes settled on his, her focus was almost shattered. A sweet smile escaped and she lifted to her toes to kiss him on the cheek, ”Drink?” She suggested in almost a whisper, then collected his hand again before walking slowly back to the bar.
It was so difficult to be good. She wanted to kiss him, and squeeze him tight, and tell him about how she had missed him, how she had thought of him every day, and dreamed about him. How she longed for him to curl up to at night and awoke hollow every morning. How her goals had to start small each day and grow - from that minute, to that hour, then that morning…. it was difficult, but she managed. For Lyric she would manage, and had made sure to care for herself so he would not worry.
Her grip was tight, (though to Lyric likely not so) but it trembled with her effort to school herself. Thus far she had done a good job, just a little while longer then you have to say goodbye. Once she reached the old wood of the bar, her free hand rested atop it and she commanded her hand to let go … when she tried to, she realized her hand still remained in his tightly. Her dark eyes stared in at their hands in surprise, then slowly lifted to his face and those luminous golden halos.
Lyric's smile widened as he helped her down. It was funny, he thought, the little things that you could grow to miss about people. Just the glances they might give you, or their movements--her curtsy had reminded him, for some reason, of the tentative waves she had given in the past. These thoughts did not sit well with him. He spent so much time trying to push her away that he hadn't realized when, exactly, he had given up on doing so.
It must have been during the months that he was alone; a time when he realized exactly how horrible that was, once he knew there was an alternative, or a cure, for that loneliness. Looking back, his own cruelty sickened him. He had been so... terrible to her. At the same time, he felt a sick sense of pleasure in it, try as he may. For once in his life, he had some form of control over something, over someone. For once, he was not the one being ruined, but he was the one doing the ruining--
I'm terrible. That thought was there.
He laughed softly as she kissed him. Not because it was funny, but because he was happy--he felt a rare half-contentment, something that was bittersweet, because beneath it was guilt for his previous thoughts, as well as the thought that the night was going to be too short. Drink? Lyric didn't know if he wanted one, but he let her lead him.
Halfway there, he didn't know if he was willing to let her go. A drink seemed trivial, like a distraction or something, and he didn't think he needed that. And so when she went to move forward or release him, Lyric held fast.
"No drink," Lyric said quietly. He waited for her to look at him. When she did, he held her gaze. He didn't know what he had planned to do until that moment. He raised his hand to her face, and for just a second memorized her features--his fingertips traced the contour of her cheek, the arch of her brow, the bridge of her nose, the crest of her lips. Abruptly, he pulled her towards him, perhaps a little over-enthusiastically, his hand at the nape of her neck. He kissed her again, slowly at first, and then with more intensity.
Rules be damned. His fingers remained intertwined with hers, and it was not an action borne out of lust so much of... need. He couldn't put it into words, what he was feeling; the tremendous loss of being separated, and the joy at their temporary reunion, the guilt of the past. And so he used the raw kiss to convey it.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
No drink, he said in a strange tone. When his hands drifted to her face, her eyelashes fluttered against his skin before closing to feel his fingers trace her features. When his thumb slid over her lips, they parted and before she could open her eyes she was pulled to him with force.
It was so natural, her hands slipped over his shoulders and her mouth moved with his before she had even thought. Her wings flapped lightly as she lifted to her toes and returned his passion with interest, crushing herself against him. He turned then, his hands grasping her hips and lifting to set her atop the bar. Her knees gripped, her arms bracing around his neck until she had settled, then pulled him closer.
Her fingers drifted through his hair and dug into his chest as she gasped at the deliciousness of his hot breath against her skin. Her hand traveled down his neck and … caught on something. Immediately she knew what it was and she held his head in her hands gently, feathering kisses until he calmed. She smiled into his eyes and pecked another kiss to his lips before reaching into his collar and pulling the feather necklace out from under his shirt.
The black feather had been well loved, handled until it was slightly misshapen. Sitting atop the bar gave her less than a head of height over him, but she bent to look at the tag engraved so carefully with a special word.
Aurora had know he would keep it, but not that he would treasure it.It was obvious it had been with him everywhere in the last months they were apart, and she laughed lightly the sound like bells. It was a happy laugh, knowing that despite the fact they were parted, he carried a small piece of her with him always.
Her thumb worried over it before her gaze lifted and she smiled again, then drew the chain toward her until it pulled the back of his neck and she leaned forward to kiss him sweetly.
She was ridiculously light as he lifted her up, keeping close. Her touch sent his heart thundering, and made him want more--he wanted to memorize her, every line of her. His mother had told him once that the physical aspect of a relationship wasn't the important one--that it was supposed to be emotional, connecting on some level, but he had trouble believing that now, when every touch felt like a brand, something he would never forget.
Shit. I'm starting to think like a cliche romance novel. The thought was brief. Her hands ran through his hair, down his neck, making Lyric arch into her--and then her fingers found the string of her gift, and her kisses went from feverish to gentle. He happily slowed the pace, relishing it instead of rushing, and then he opened his eyes to look at her.
The necklace stretched between them like a strange sort of promise. He smiled at her, a genuine smile. It was pointless to say what was obvious. I kept it. I love it.
Except "love" was a very strong word. He mentally blanched at it, but she kissed him again before Lyric could over-think it. His expression, afterward, became devious. "I like your dress, moy golubushka." He kissed the edge of her mouth, softly, and planted another at the corner of her jaw.
Another kiss to the side of her neck. One at the hollow of her throat. His lips lingered at her collarbone, but after a pause he kissed her gently and turned his face to the side, lying his head against her breastbone. Lyric sighed. "It isn't fair." His hands moved from her hips to her back, and he rose with them, until their noses brushed and their foreheads touched. His fingers stroked the soft feathers of her wings.. "I wouldn't change you. But I wish it didn't have to be like this. Stolen moments." He laughed, bitterly. "Isn't that all anything is, anymore?"
His eyes were closed. It felt good just to touch her, just to be there, breathing the same air.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
It was growing late, too late. His kisses were like basking in the sun for Aurora after a cold winter, breathing life back into her and chasing the dark shadows away. To the compliment she smiled, but said nothing and when his head rested against her, her face dropped to his hair. The heady, thick scent was forever imprinted and she took a deep breath. His fingers caressing her wings was a small form of heaven, a gesture no one would ever be allowed but Lyric.
It isn’t fair, he said and he was suddenly so close their eyelashes brushed. Her forehead to his in intimate poise made her smile again and she could feel his lips move as he spoke. She closed her eyes, drinking in his smell, his voice, his hands … at his comment on stolen moments her eyes opened and after he grew silent, her hand lifted to the side of his face.
The expression in her eyes were fathomless, understanding, compassionate, miserable, and yearning all at once and she gently kissed his forehead, then each eyelid, then his mouth and left her forehead against his as she whispered.
”We don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time,” she pulled back to catch those golden hues of his once more and offered him a soft smile. She knew.
He risked so much just being here, and it was the promise of this moment - these stolen moments that both kept Aurora up at night, and got her out of bed every morning. His face was her sun and her moon, but she did not say these things. Lyric had obligations now, duties that she did not quite understand, but cherished non-the-less and if it meant for the rest of her time in the Menagerie that she only ever saw Lyric in stolen moments like these … she would be grateful.
Had anyone else said the things that Aurora did, Lyric would have blatantly laughed at them. Maybe it was because he had always thought that you couldn't mean those things, not genuinely. People used words like "always" and "dreams" and "love" to be melodramatic (again, with that damn word!). He shoved the thought away.
When Rory said things like "dreams", he could almost believe it, because she did, and she did it without a doubt. Her touches were hollow comforts, but comforts nonetheless, and he lingered for a moment longer.
Lyric looked at her, and what he did not want to use words like "dreams" or "all the time". He wanted to use words like "raw" and "innocent" and "breaking". He offered her a small smile. What he didn't say was that this wasn't fair to her, either. A part of him knew he was taking advantage of that innocence he was enthralled by. She didn't know any better than this. Sometimes he thought that she offered him such boundless kindness because she did not know cruelty. "I have to go, Rory."
He leaned close to her again, and this kiss was soft, a kiss of parting, one that lingered. He pulled away just enough to speak. "I won't be able to see you again for a while." Lyric took a step back, and offered his hand to help her from the bar. His expression had become cool, emotionless. All but his eyes, which were rubbed raw with seeing her. His regret was evident, but so was his resolve.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
All at once she was scared, desperate, and breaking again. Her breath caught when he said he had to go and her chest felt too heavy. She pressed against the insurmountable pain for just a little longer and she nodded. Yes it would be a while … to long.
She accepted his offer to help her down, and she landed gracefully. As she moved toward the stairs mechanically she stopped at the first step, then turned. She wouldn’t be able to do it. She couldn’t watch him walk away it was too hard.
”I will take care of me for you. Take care of you for me,” Aurora gave a smile, lifted to her toes and planted a last sweet kiss to his stoic face. ”Count to three,” she breathed then turned, ascended the steps, and was gone.
What Lyric would never see could not hurt him, and once she had passed the threshold of the building Aurora ran. Had she not been so upset she would have flown, but she had to leave or she would get bad again. She had already slipped a little, but not enough to lose everything she had worked so hard to collect and compose.
How far she ran she did not know, and twice she stumbled. She could not see … not for lack of night vision, for Aurora’s large ebon eyes saw better than most in the dark. It was the blur of tears, the strain of emotion, and the blinding feeling of panic. After a few miles, it became too much and she dropped to her knees panting and sobbing. The trees were her shelter, the blackness a blanket as she disappeared altogether.
In another few months, she hoped to see him again and until then, Aurora would build her resolve for that moment. She would harden and steal herself for that shattering blow that always came when they had to say goodbye.
He closed his eyes. One. Opened them. Two. She was already gone. Three. He was empty again.
The difference was immediate. Lyric's expression fell. He had a smile on his face, for a second, but now there was no remnants of that. Nor was there anything left in his eyes. They were the tawny, impassive gaze of an animal.
Lyric did not leave immediately. He could not stand the thought of it, just then, to ascend those steps and see the empty church. I should have taken her home, he thought, but he felt like he would have been a masochist by doing it. Prolonging their "goodbye", because they always said goodbye. Christ, being around her just left him wanting more. Lyric thought that they could have had days, or weeks, to be around each other and it would still not be enough.
For now, that hour was enough. It would have to be.
He retrieved his KA-Bar from the first table he'd sat at, and went to the bar. It took him a while to retrieve a bottle of cognac, which he set on the counter, and then he scrounged up a dusty glass. He methodically polished it on his shirt.
Lyric glanced at the stairwell as he poured a half glass. Then he sat there, one elbow propped against the bar, the glass held in his hand against the edge of his lip. He already forgot exactly what it felt like to kiss her. In that moment, sitting alone in the dimness of the Speakeasy with a glass of cognac, he thought about his father for the first time in a very long while.
In his mind's eye, Lyric saw Ivan M. Shikov sitting in their living room. He would recline his chair with a sigh, and on the tray beside him he would have one of the servants bring him a glass (not unalike the one Lyric had pressed to his mouth) and a bottle. Lyric remembered, very clearly, how as a child he would sit at the foot of that chair and lean his head against his father's knee. Ivan would smell like cognac or whiskey or vodka, but there was just once when he had reached out with an expression a little less than empty, and had ruffled his son's hair.
"I think I love her," Lyric said, to no one in particular, staring at the glass he had not taken a drink of.
Lyric stood, splashed the untouched cognac haphazardly on the floor, and left the Speakeasy.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
