Sep 14 19:34:32 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Mon Sep 14 19:34:32 105 PA.
The Kingsdale Plaza Park stretches out to the west approximately sixteen-hundred feet until it meets with a residential area. The ground is covered with sporadic grass and wild flowers. Deep craters from some long-ago weapons fire cover this area of the park making the ground uneven and in some places difficult to walk. Nonetheless, this area has seen extensive use by the people of Kingsdale. Bike trails criss-cross the area and one of the craters has been filled with water where duck and other water birds come. These waterfoul seem to have quite a good living too, with people almost always present to feed them. Here and there are stands of conifer trees that people often sit beneath to read and otherwise forget the trials and tribulations of city life. The exception to this is during the night though, and nobody comes to the park after dark unless they are either foolhardy in the extreme or looking for trouble. The wind blows through the area unhampered and on good days it carries with it the laughter of children feeding ducks and the sweet scent of pine and wild flowers. Benches and places to sit are also scattered through the park area, and to the south is a Pavillion of five statues -- all previous dictators and people of note to Kingsdale's past.
Desmond sits at the crater pond this evening, often finding this to be the most restful period to be at the park. The families departing, fewer people bringing a more steady sense of quiet. The perfect quiet in which to work his favored art. Thus, settled on the oft used log near the edge of the water, Desmond leans over his sketchpad, fixed on the paper. The waning light doesn't stay him as he steadily works on his latest work. Though unlike his usual, he doesn't look up from the paper often to view his latest model. He keeps his eyes on the paper, his pencil scratching at the pad constantly.
Aimee is running. Her cheeks are red from the exertion, her curls plastered to her forehead with the damp and her t-shirt slick to her body. She pauses, bending, one hand on her waist, almost gasping for breath after pushing her body harder than it is happy to do. The curls, restrained into a ponytail, fall forward as she bends, and she rests the other hand on her knee. The path she pauses on strays close to the crater pond, barely in sight through trees.
Desmond pauses after a few moments more at his task, a subtle frown coming to him as he stares at the page. After some intent moments of focus, he shakes his head and flips the page. Poised to set pencil to paper again for a moment before he pauses and simply shakes his head, flipping the pad closed. Tucking it into his jacket, he stands, turning. For a moment he doesn't really look ahead as he starts to move back towards the path. But it only takes a few moments before his eyes focus ahead and he notices the familiar silhouette head of him. For a moment he will be silent, not drawing attention to himself, but not pausing in his approach towards the path, weaving slowly through the trees.
Aimee straightens, her face showing for the first time, the flush not entirely oxygen related as her hands lift to push the damp curls from her forehead. She shakes her head, clearing it before turning to run again, off the path, towards Desmond. She isn't thinking about where her feet take her, her thoughts occupying all her mind's time, her eyes barely acknowledging the trees in her path.
Desmond muses Aimee as she ends her rest period. When she turns his way, the big cat stops. His eyes on her as she moves his way. Some spontaneous edge comes to him as she moves his way and he shifts back slightly, moving back a bit into the shadow of a tree. He waits and when she comes to near where he lies in wait, a big arm comes out to intercept her. Wrapping about her as he turns, pivoting to soften the 'impact' of it. He wishes to turn and draw her to him, his other arm coming around to complete the embrace. And just in case she might not know just who it is at first, he rumbles, "Aimee."
The attention breaks as the arm is wrapped around her and she response instantly with a shriek loud enough to wake the dead, twisting to lash out at him. His rumbling voice prevents the fist from landing and she goes still, her eyes wide as she stares up at him, breath coming quickly. "Desmond." She replies, an edge to her voice. "Do you scare all women like this or do I get special treatment?"
"You have ever been special to me, "Desmond replies steadily. "I wonder at times if you truly grasp the truth in that. If you know my feelings for you.. how deep they run." He frowns slightly, his head given a shake as he holds her gently, not too close or firm in the grip, but conveying an intimacy nonetheless. "I am pelased to see you."
"You tell me all the time these days." She comments, unspoken words showing briefly in her eyes, the words coming out sharp as she deliberately leans back to get a little space, using his grip to support her, or to let her step back. "I didn't see you." She comments, her arms crossing over her chest, lips tightening.
"And I have shown it to you, ever since our first parting.. after we did reconcile," Desmond counters. "It mystifies me.. so much I have done.. would do for you. Yet one slight misstep.. something that I would bend to you on in any way to please you and it seems all we have done together means naught. For what else could I think with how you have responded on this? Such mistrust.. one forgotten thing is all it takes to bring such things? I honestly don't understand it, Aimee."
For a moment she stares up at him, then the folded arms unfold and she slams her hands into his chest, her face crumpling with fury and upset. "Because you and he and Kesslan, you will all die and leave me and I don't want to sit waiting for it to happen, when I could leave now, decide when I leave..." At this point, the fluid babble of words slips into french, her hands alternatively gesturing as she speaks and hitting his chest with flat palmed slaps. "And non, non, non, I do not want it." She ends, staring up at him, fury and hurt mingled in her eyes.
The slam of her hands gets a light grunt from Desmond, more being startled at the strike, than actual pain. As sturdily built as he is, its like punching into a padded wall. He weathers the slaps, bemusement coming to him as she speaks, taking a few moments to process the parts he can understand, with the steady distraction of her vented ire. HIs bemusement fades slowly as her words come to an end, his own eyes fixed on her furious ones. "And if you were to die? Something I fear for at all times that you are not in my sight. This world is a dangerous one. You may think you will be safe, but many are those who seek no trouble that die each day. Seek another man and the chance will remain that one day he will not return to you. Do you think I work at Pro-Tech because I enjoy the work? I do it because it is safer than the work I could find doing what I was made to do." He frowns at that and keeps his eyes on her. "I do it because I would rather toil there for the rest of my days if it means I can better the chances that every day I will return to take you into my arms." The light sting from her slaps he ignores, his loose, but warm embrace remaining just as gentle as it began.
"And you get drugs to be better able to pick up the boxes, oui?" She snaps back at him, lifting her chin, her eyes sparkling with temper and tears, the lashes darken by the moisture. "And my job, it is not precisely dangerous. I may slip, fall on a glass perhaps and die?" Sarcasm lies heavily on those words. "I don't want someone else, I just don't wish to sit waiting for ..." She throws her hands in the air, frustration on her face. "Non."
"Or perhaps one day a man who looks to you with lust will not be menaced by your knife before he has you in hand and helpless," Desmond rumbles without flinching. "Perhaps several men from a gang will take a liking to you. Until we can build the nightclub, you must work there.. where vampires killed so many who worked at the Joy building that Kesslan works at. Women not unlike yourself. Perhaps you realize it not, but there are dangers even for you. Unlikely dangers, as I am thankful for every day, but dangers that exist." He shakes his head and states, "I told you before the drugs are gone and I seek them no more. Again I bend for you. I acknowledge your fears, your concerns and I do what is best for us. I have said it before, but I wonder if you listen.. or perhaps you believe me not still? Go.. search, you will find nothing dealing with that in my possessions."
"And one day perhaps a box might fall on you but it doesn't compare. If you never plan to fight, why do you train with your friend? Why accept them in the first place?" She shakes her head, tightening her lips. "Yeah, you changed a lot, oui, and oui, it is probably my fault." She lifts her hands to press against his chest, to try pointlessly to force him to release his grip. "Oui, it is all my fault and I am stupid and don't love you enough so oui, let me go!"
"No." Desmond tightens his arms just slightly. "I made that mistake before.. I do not wish to make it again. I have tried to explain the why to you before.. two, perhaps three times before. Perhaps talk is, as one I have known before has said, cheap. But what else is there? I cannot force you to do anything.. I know that and I would not wish to use my strength against you. It is not the fault of one. It was my mistake to accept them.. the best of intentions can turn foul. That is why I hold to you.. you better me. You care enough to tell me when you think I misstep. And I listen."
The look of frustration that crosses her face is unusually expressive, before she sweeps her lashes down to hide it. "Desmond, ..." The frustration stays in her voice, before she tames it, "Desmond, if I tell you things, and it changes you so that you are different, and perhaps I am not so sure of knowing you as before, and everything is changing." She shrugs, folding her arms, closing herself off despite the firm grip on her. "I think I shouldn't have told you anything, or made you change."
"Changes that I accept." Desmond keeps one arm tight about her waist, the other lifting to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek lightly. "I understand why you reacted so to the drugs. I should have considered that, but I didn't. I know better now. I grow.. I become better. I appreciate cooking more.. enjoy pleasurable foods. I learn how to treat you better, as I was shown during our time apart. All things that I can thank you for. Welcome changes. And those things you teach me when we are alone.. as ever, new ways of doing, new ways of being."
She turns her head away from the touch, after a brief moment. "Non..." She murmurs, "Desmond, let me go?" Her gaze avoids him, sliding to one side, her lashes lowered, hiding from him. "I don't think this is helping, this talking." She shakes her head, tightening her lips briefly, momentarily. "Non, I don't think..."
"I don't wish to talk anymore, Aimee," Desmond rumbles, his hand lifting, turned slightly to draw his fingertips against her cheek lightly, letting his claws slip out just so. "I want you to come home with me. I want you to let go of your fears.. accept what may come, as I do. I fear for you each day, but so too do I seek to fill each day with memories to buffer against what may come. WE make no memories in the now, you and I. I feel such loss without you."
Aimee's lashes lower further, hiding her gaze entirely, the brief flash of the heat he knows well hidden beneath them. She shudders lightly, her arms moving to clasp around her waist, her hands resting on her elbows. "Desmond...I can't, I can't do it." Those words are soft, uncertain. "I think, me, it might be worse with more memories, Desmond."
"We can, together," Desmond replies lowly. "You think I wish to die? I do not wish to leave you.. I fear not my own death, but I do fear leaving you. But the only thing I fear more than that is to be deprived of you. I know not what I would do were you to be taken from me.. pain there was to lose your love.. to lose all of you.." He shakes his head. "But I don't wish to be away from you any longer. For if it were to happen, I would seek to hold the memories of you close to me, as I hold you now."
She shakes her head, the slight movement pressing her cheek into the claws. The only sign of emotion is the tiny parting of her lips, the soft intake of breath. "Desmond..." The word is an appeal, possibly for release, before she lifts her gaze to look at him, green eyes darkening, the heat showing in them. "Please?"
Desmond lifts his fingers from her cheek gently, turned to glide the backs against it once more. "Come, Aimee.. I will force naught upon you, but I do not wish to be alone. I do not sleep so deep without you. I seek to draw, but I cannot focus. Can you tell me that you are at peace away from me? Look to my eyes.. tell me this without looking away.. tell me this and I will let you go. I will return to our home alone and I will not seek you again until you have chosen to come to me." His fingers lift then, his hand dropping to his side, leaving just the one that wraps her waist. "Look into my eyes, Aimee.. tell me this, if you can."
"Desmond, don't..." Aimee whispers, catching herself turning her head into the touch. Her gaze slides away from his, and she shakes her head slowly. "I don't argue that I love you, but you say perhaps I don't love you as much as you love me, and ..." She shakes her head again, perhaps to clear it, "Des, let me go?"
Desmond huffs out deeply, his arm relaxing. "You let your fear control you, Aimee. I know not how much you love me.. but I would have you tell me when you know. Sooner, rather than later. We share those words often enough.. but as seems the point of this day, talk is cheap. Often I have shown you how much I love you. How I will compromise with you for the better of we both. I show you even now. All I need is your answer to that question. Another man may not wait so long for such an answer, but I will wait for you. However long it takes for you to discover this. But there may come a time when even my patience wears thin."
For a moment she stays still before taking a step back, jerking into action, as if she had forgotten she could move. "I thought asking you spoke more than words, Desmond." She shakes her head, clearing it, turning and bolting, her run less a a jog than a bolt.Tags:aimee, desmond
