Apr 09 14:45:04 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Thu Apr 09 14:45:04 105 PA.
The afternoon finds Desmond a bit deeper into the pack than before. His wanderings having taken him far and wide within, ending with him settled at a spot familiar to him. The water filled crater where he did once meet and speak with Aimee. Vaguely remembering the spot as he passed, he felt compelled to stop there. Moving towards the tree where he crouched near. Almost at once dropping into said posture, his eyes straying towards where Aimee was briefly before they flick out over the water. His thoughts still a whirl. He leans a shoulder into the tree and decides he will linger a while there and let them spin.
With him beside a tree, in a crouch, it is no surprise that Aimee walks almost past him, his letter in her hand, along with a pen and a paper of her own. Her face is set in lines of concentration, not reading the letter, not writing but talking, stopping, correcting herself, and talking again. The impatience on her face suggests that whatever she is trying to write is perhaps not the easiest of things. She sits down, by the water side, next to a flat stone. The papers and pen get put there and she stares at them before taking up the pen, and writing...
Desmond awakens from his thoughtful reverie when her soft footfalls draw near. A glance given towards as Aimee moves past at the side. His insides seize. He almost speaks then, when his eyes sight the paper.. the pen. His opened maw closes slowly as he remains still. Hyper aware in the moment to such small things, he considers if it could mean something.. and if so what. Good.. bad..? The moments he spends trying to decide are fruitless ones. In the end he recalls Ordo's words, mingled with his own desires and the answer is clear. "Aimee." There will be a subtle hesitance in the deep intone of her name. His customary greeting given as he stands slowly, shedding his involuntary concealment, but not yet approaching her. His eyes studying the young woman to gauge her state.
Aimee is curled on the ground, her head bent over the papers when he speaks. The noise makes her head jerk up, surprised, shocked. "Desmond! How long have you been here?" She covers the shock well, lowering her lashes, sweeping them across her eyes to brush against her cheeks. "I was just trying to write back to you." When she looks up again, it is with a smile, her cheeks dimpling, as the green eyes warm. "Finding the words is not as easy as you'd think. They all sound stupid,..." She trails off, her gaze on his face, searchingly.
"Not long." Desmond's honest response, for he has been lingering perhaps a minute. Her smile does much to lighten the weight within his gut. And it softens the firm set of that neutral expression. He moves forward slowly to approach as he speaks, deep voice lowered to one more discreet. "I understand more than you might think. It took hours to write what I sent you.. not just to form the thoughts, but to form the letters. It is the first thing I've written.. it was not hard to understand, was it?" A mild concern before the true worries that natter at the back of his mind.
Aimee sits up, twisting to tuck her legs beneath her. "I understood it all, you write really clearly, Des." Those words are quiet, her eyes falling to the paper. "I've been trying to write back since I got them but I don't know what to say in reply, and I didn't want to see you until I replied..." She releases the pen long enough to impatiently push curls from her eyes. "That and trying not to show it to Kelley."
"I appreciate that," Desmond tells her. Approaching near, within an arms reach for him, before he drops down, slipping into cross legged sit with his hands set on his knees. "What I wrote was for you alone. I.." A pause. Despite her smile.. her welcome, he still feel concern. "I wonder what you thought.. I.. I hope none of it.. displeased you." The tone of that last communicating much of his concern. An unfitting aura of nervousness about the big feline as he awaits her response to this.
A great weight seems to lift from Desmond's shoulders at her words, much of his concern simply evaporating. "It did.. it was.. like living the memories again. Difficult." A taken breath released as he considers her quietly. "Much of what was in there.. I did not know if you would approve of.. what I am. What I've done. But.. I wanted to be honest with you. To share with you something I have not shared with any other in such detail." He glances towards the paper she brought and asks, "Would you tell me your thoughts, Aimee? A letter I would accept, but.. I would prefer to hear them from your lips."
Aimee 's gaze skitters to the papers, the lashes hiding her thoughts again, her expression unexpressive for a second before she smiles, tilting her head back. "I don't think they are very coherent... I've never had someone write so much personal stuff to me. I'm not even sure I know that much about anyone else, Des." She hesitates, before admitting softly, with a tiny smile, "I don't think my history would cover a page even. I tried. It mostly read, grew up Catholic, rebelled, got fucked, decided to stop..." The humour is wry, showing in her eyes.
Desmond nods his head once as she speaks, considering the brief outline of her own past given. "I.. I do not know what Catholic is. But you need not tell me of all of you now. That you would consider it warms me, Aimee." He pauses, considering a moment before he dares reach out to her, to gently take her hand with his, should she allow it of him. The planned touch simple and light. A gentle connection as he rumbles lowly, "I'm sure there is much.. details that don't easily come to mind.. perhaps ones you might not wish to say. But I would tell you now Aimee, nothing you would say would change how I care for you. I feel.. I feel that I should have trusted you more, for the worry that I felt for your thoughts on what I sent you."
"Catholic, a religion based on sins of all types, from sex to thinking about wanting something." That curt summary might perhaps be unfair to the vast religion but meh, who cares. She lets him take her hand, watching carefully, her green eyes softening. "You were worried? After seeing the way you were with that guy, you think I didn't know what you were? At least in part..." She hesitates for a moment before bending her head and dropping a light kiss on his hand.
Desmond muses the brief description of 'Catholic'. Religion as a concept he's heard of, but never truly thought about. Sins.. he knows not that word either, but her tone.. it seems a bad thing.. sex being thought a negative thing? His confusion is obvious enough, but he shoulders such topics aside for what she says next. Holding her hand with care as he looks into her eyes without a waver. Until that kiss on his hand. His eyes dipping, as if to confirm such a touch was felt. His other hand lifts, the both of them gently enclosing hers as he leans forward just slightly. "But you did not know who made me. That.. that I am not a.. natural creature," he reminds, perhaps to be sure that such things were obvious. His killing nature, yes, obvious enough to her. His willingness to kill a man for simply doing her a hurt.. yes, he remembers showing her that in detail. There is some remorse, though more for what he did show her rather than for that unnamed man. "Your friendship means much to me. To risk it.. or to think that I did risk it is no easy thing. I could remember the anguish I felt when we were in conflict.. I do not wish to feel that again."
Aimee sits up, keeping her eyes on their joined hands, "No but it doesn't make you less Desmond to be made so." She sighs, biting lightly on her lower lip, white teeth against the red lipstick. "I don't think it is likely you'll easily lose my friendship, Des, if it was, given everything I think it would already be done, don't you?" Her thumb lightly brushes against his skin, her eyes half hidden as she looks down.
Much of his concern seems to flow away from him with the next breath he releases, his broad shoulders unbowed. "You do not know how those words soothe me, Aimee." His eyes dipping to her hand, clasped with his own. So small, yet so compelling this woman. His eyes lift as he rumbles, "You are so very important to me. I would do anything for you. Do you know this? It is no small boast.. but perhaps you know this already.. the night when I broke your door. That was not a whim.. I take your safety very seriously.. your well being. I would let no one challenge it. No one." Considering the kiss she gave to his hand before, he tries the same. One of his hands slipping away from the clasp, baring the back. His head dipping, her hand lifted to place a soft brush of his muzzle to the back. "You would not hesitate to speak if you needed me, I hope."
Her eyes lift, following his face as he lowers them to kiss her hands. An infrequent blush colours her cheekbones, and then she sweeps her lashes down, hiding her eyes entirely. "I'm about as safe as houses, Des. Practically wrapped in cotton wool, aren't I?" Her voice is low, husky, before she slowly disengages her hands, tucking them beneath her thighs. "Des, ...Desmond. Is what Kelley said true? Are you going on some mission that might kill you?" Those words aren't soft and husky and just fall out, blurted.
There is a flicker of disappointment when she draws from Desmond's grip, though he veils it. Resolving himself, hands returning to his knees. Before he might respond to her first words, she asks that sudden, blunt question. "Yes." A simple response, without a moment of thought given to offering it. There is a beat of silence as he makes a connection and adds, "Yes.. there is a threat that could bring doom to all who live here. I am going with others to see that the threat is quelled. It will be dangerous, I do not deny. But I have no plans to die, Aimee." His eyes set toward her own, unflinching from the topic. "It concerns you.. worries you. I understand this."
Her hands staying firmly under her legs, Aimee's face is almost blank as she asks questions, "Kelley said it was more than dangerous, more like most people would die type of thing." That is more of a statement, almost childlike comparing of comments. "He made a point of telling me that you both are going and if something happens to him and you survive, that I should be with you."
That throws the big male and he blinks twice before he rumbles, "He said this?" As if not truly believing it. Something about it disconcerts Desmond, but he recovers and states, "You may choose your path, Aimee. Be it with me or another. I do not know the danger personally, but it is likely we will be outnumbered, if my instincts are right on the feel of this. I can make no promises save that I plan to return to you. He.. I do not know his role in this, I cannot be certain of his safety." An honest answer without a trace of sinister undertone.
Aimee lifts a shoulder slightly, slanting a look up at him. "He said if I wanted to be, I should be. He wasn't telling me who to be with, Des... just kinda giving permission, if he died." She hesitates, biting her lower lip. "I don't want either of you to go, but I don't think me telling either of you that would make a difference, would it?"
Desmond releases a slow, deep breath and shakes his head. "The threat is to you as well as all others, Aimee. I could not be idle.. hope others might be able to face the test that is to come. I am strong.. capable. I must lend my aid. To see that this threat never comes to harm you. A foolish sentiment, perhaps.. not one that would please you, but I would sacrifice myself for you, Aimee.. if need be. But do not think that I go to sacrifice in this. I go to battle. To win for you and to return and tell you with my own words that the threat has been banished. That you are safe." A hand lifts again, gently touching her knee. "It is not a light thing for me either. I do not want to go away from you.. to chance that I might not see you again. I fear what might happen if I am not here for you."
A soft sigh and an exasperated look are the first thing his words get him. "I don't want you to sacrifice, not at all. You were going before me, both of you." She reaches for the papers, pushing them, along with the pen, into her bag. "I did survive before you and Kelley, Des... I'm not some helpless female." Something seems to have drawn back, into her own mind, kept private by eyes that don't reflect feelings and a face that can hide emotions well.
"I know this, Aimee.. I know, "Desmond states firmly, but gently. "I have never seen you as helpless. Indeed, how you have faced me in the past speaks much of this.. how you reached out to me to teach me. There is great strength in you and it draws me, just as I wrote to you." His hand slips down, back to his knee as he adds, "Still.. even the strong need help. You have done much to help me where I am weak. I ache to return this to you. I want to be here for you when your own times come. Like the night not too long before.. when we talked. When I gave comfort to aid you. Times such as those.. they mean a great deal to me. Just as you do." He does not veil his emotions in total in this moment. His eyes open windows into the warm care he holds towards her. The simple truth in the steady rumble of his voice.
Aimee shakes her head, the hidden something becoming less well hidden before she stands up, rising abruptly to her feet. "I don't think you are weak, at all, ever, Desmond." Softly spoken words, her back to him, hands in her pockets. "I think, that I need time to think, about you both going and what it means, and work things out in my head."
Desmond starts to rise as she does. Though not to stay her.. only to match her, to turn and face her as she turns her back to him. "Weakness is something we all know.. not just in the physical. But your words warm me, Aimee. I wish you luck with your thoughts. If you would.. I would eagerly listen if you wish to share them. In person or in a letter. Farewell, Aimee." He will linger as she goes. Always watching, silently appreciating. And he finds himself with thoughts still loud in his head.. no quiet brought by the meeting as he mulls the new questions and concerns that rise.
