Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Existentially Odd on December 20, 2007, 09:50:50 PM
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(Continued from \'Deus Ex Machina (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forums/showthread.php?p=55958#post55958)\')
It took Tom and his thieving prisoner/partner in crime an hour to get sorted out. Half of it was hiking to the spot he dictated they needed to get to, the rest was strapping her up into a harness that fit (Reed\'s had to be adjusted twice before it was small enough) and teaching her about knots, brakes and rope handling. He\'d decided that neither of them would have a belay; he hammered a spike anchor in at the top of the hundred foot cliff for each of them and wound the ropes accordingly.
To her credit, she listened avidly and managed to stop sulking long enough to check what she had to do when she wasn\'t sure. They wore helmets and gloves as their only safety gear (not that either would save them, if they fell) and Tom told his companion that she\'d have to step over the edge first.
"What\'s your name, anyway?" he asked belatedly. "Y\'know; in case you fuck up and I have to go back to your place and let your buddies know you\'re cactus." He smiled, ever the charmer, hoping she\'d really freak out when she went to take her first step over the side; that part was always the hardest, but always the biggest thrill.
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This was not where she had expected to be, tonight: about to dangle herself off the edge of a cliff in the dead of night, so some bloodsucker could get his jollies. She let him manhandle her into the harness – manhandle being the operative word – and her face showed her displeasure the whole time, but she endured in relative silence. At least he seemed to know what he was doing, and that was a comfort. A small one.
She was in the middle of checking all her knots for the hundred thosandth time when her redheaded companion spoke to her. Looking up, lips still pursed in concentration, she snorted, "Morgaine. And if I bite it, you\'d better get ready to be next," She cringed, instantly regretting her choice of words. Bite it. How ironic. She went on quickly, "\'Cause, vampire or not, my friends\'ll fuckin\' kick your ass." Or at least they\'d try really really hard. She was pretty sure.
"I know this is going pretty far out on a limb here, but assuming you had friends, what would they call you? I mean, aside from bad names?" She smiled at him as she backed toward the edge of the cliff, leaning her small weight against the rope experimentally.
She checked to make sure she wasn\'t too far away for when she jumped, and made the mistake of looking down. The moonlight didn\'t penetrate all the way to the base of the sheer face, which only served to make it appear bottomless, "Aw, shit." She turned away quickly, preferring instead to look at the sky. She wasn\'t afraid of heights, but that drop was enough to frighten anybody, "Dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians, that\'s a long way to the ground," she muttered, soft enough that he wouldn\'t have been able to hear, had he been human (old habits die hard). Then, louder, "Why do I have to go first, again?"
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He grinned nastily, pushing away the emotions that battered at him at the question of what his friends would call him - since Reed had named him most recently, it was a painful request. He wasn\'t ready to let go of it, though. Not just yet.
"They call me Tom," he told her sourly, enjoying her reaction to the drop - as he\'d known he would - despite the mood she put him in with her stupid questions. "And you\'re going first because I say you are," he finished simply, smirking at her. "Remember to keep your feet as close to perpendicular as you can, just let your ass lead the way." He snickered, hoping for another gasp, and moved a bit closer so he would be able to sense the change in her heart rate as she stepped over.
"Don\'t worry, there are no hungry lesbians down there, you\'ll be perfectly safe, as long as you keep your head."
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Tom\'s sour tone earned him a raised eyebrow. So friends were a touchy subject, it would seem – and one she was content to let drop. "Pretty fuckin\' generic name, bro," was the only response he got.
"Alright." She took a deep breath and gave her head a good shake to clear her thoughts, "Just like Lara Croft." And she stepped backwards off the edge of the cliff.
She didn\'t give him the gasp he wanted, preferring an exhilarated whoop. She braced her sneaker-clad feet against the sheer rock face after allowing herself a short drop. The shoes skidded a bit, but nothing terrible; just enough to make her wish she was wearing boots. After checking (as best she could, without letting go of the anchored rope) that all of her knots had held, and making sure her rope was free, the dark-skinned singer grinned. She was alive.
"Suck on that."
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Tom chuckled as he dropped over the edge beside her, the thrill of it taking away his cranky demeanour almost instantly. It was hard to stay mad at the world (and Reed) when flinging oneself wildly over a cliff with only a rope and a well-hammered anchor stopping him from falling to his death. He practically leapt into it, in fact, as always testing his boundaries and glaring certain death in the face.
His greater experience at abseiling and in knowing this cliff showed as he practically flew down the rock beside her, liking his descent hard and fast. He waited for her to get to the bottom, happy with the feeling of adrenalin in his veins - even if it was only a touch compared to what he generally survived on. It was better than nothing, which was all he\'d had for months now.
He was smiling fairly genuinely when Morgaine landed, the rope on the ground at his feet, his gloves removed and grasped in his right hand, arms akimbo. "So," he drawled, "how\'d you like it?" From the whoop she\'d delivered, he expected that she certainly hadn\'t hated it.
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Morgaine had gotten the hang of it quickly, shedding her fear quickly as she\'d descended. She\'d found, in fact, the sheer adrenalin was enough to make her forget, at least for a moment, why she was here in the first place. That adrenalin was by far her drug of choice.
Driving fast was great for that, and driving recklessly was even better, and train jumping was still the best, as far as she was concerned – but this was new and different. She had never previously strayed from an urban environment to get her heart-pumping thrills, and something about the raw, man-versus-wild element out here in the wilderness appealed to her primal nature.
"Homigodomigodohmigod," she enthused, as her feet touched the ground. Jazzed beyond belief, the tiny brown-skinned hurricane was practially bouncing up and down, "Let\'s do it again. Can we? Huh? Can we?" Now she actually was bouncing, grabbing Tom\'s arm like an impatient child in a moment of pure excitement.
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He grinned and laughed. "Absolutely," he enthused. "Race you to the top!" With that, he took off to reach the path that they\'d used to get to the cliff top in the first place. It was quite a slog with all the plantlife blocking the way but seemed far easier this time; no doubt because of the excitement of the very recent descent.
Tom made sure he didn\'t streak ahead of her, finding it unnecessary to flex his supernatural muscles to accomplish what he would naturally achieve with his longer legs, but he certainly admired her determination not to let him leave her behind. Of course, he reached the top first and was clipping himself back onto the rope by the time she arrived.
"How many times you think you can do that run and complete the drop?" he enquired thoughtfully, giving a nod towards the path that she\'d just emerged from to indicate that the trip up the cliff was what he meant by the \'run\' - the drop she\'d no doubt figure out all by herself. He was aware that they didn\'t have unlimited time here, but he was willing to keep dropping and returning if she was (he wouldn\'t even press home to her the fact that they\'d had his satisfaction riding on this little venture, for he was happy enough with her reaction to let the other consequences slide... so far).
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Morgaine was breathing hard by the time she reached the top of the cliff, and she found herelf unnerved by the fact that Tom wasn\'t outwardly affected in the slightest; the guy didn\'t breathe at all, for God\'s sake. Her lungs burned, and she took a moment to catch her breath before considering Tom\'s inquiry.
The endorphins were still pumping through her system, and she knew it wouldn\'t be too long before they wore off and exhaustion began to set in. Once the adrenaline was gone, her feet wold wobble, and there was a much higher chance that she would plummet to a bloody end. Her guitar playing left her with increased upper body strength, but, being female, her arms were still less strong, so the ascent was much more difficult. Plus, she\'d never done this before, so saying that she was \'out of practice\' would have been laughable.
But Morgaine knew her limits, "I can go twice more, i think," she said, when she\'d regained her breath, "Before I curl up and die. Goddamn, that climb is wicked hard." It was her opinion that they should have some handy device akin to ski lifts, for this sort of thing. This climbing business was for the birds.
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"Twice more," he agreed, giving a nod of understanding. Before he stepped over the edge though, he tilted his head to consider her, a sudden thought entering his head that was likely borne of naughty, nasty places but sounded innocent enough spilling from his lips.
"I could carry you up, if you like. Piggy back. Let me know at the bottom!" With that said, he did drop over the edge, going a little bit slower this time than he had the last, so that he didn\'t get too far ahead of her. It didn\'t even occur to him to question the courtesy he was showing her, for it was the same as he\'d show any jump-buddy. His shitty memory and live-for-the-moment attitude were already working in her favour.
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Backing toward the edge of the cliff, Morgaine snorted (she waited until Tom was already over, though, to do it – it wouldn\'t do to hurt his feelings too badly, and it seemed like he was really enjoying himself). Yeah, that would be the day.
She caught up quicker, this time, too, so he didn\'t have to go as slowly as he would\'ve, had he been showing the same courtesy previously. Her feet were more sure, and she handled the rope more deftly. A quick learner, it would seem.
When they reached the bottom, Morgaine cracked a derisive smile, "Pffft, please. Piggy back. I am the master of this cliff," she assured him. And it was true – Morgaine loved a challenge, and the climb certainly presented a formidable one.
One she was evidently eager to face, since she began the ascent without waiting for a reply. She had to move quickly in order to capitalize on the dwindling endorphin rush.
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With a mocking dip of his head - silently conceding that she didn\'t need his help and that he would allow her to think herself the cliff\'s mistress - he watched her run into the wooded darkness to begin her final trek up the cliff, rope appropriately abandoned behind her.
He was debating another drop, or simply climbing to the top and beginning to pack up the gear. Technically, she might grow restless and escape his control out here in the woods if he was otherwise occupied but then... well, he wouldn\'t admit it to her but he actually felt he\'d been paid in full now. She\'d ridden his bike hard, she\'d toted gear, listened properly to his instructions and let her little body flutter like a moth symphony playing to the largest lamppost on the street as she flung it over the cliff and into the night. He was satisfied that she\'d made up for trying to steal his petrol, so if she did try to make a break for it, he wouldn\'t pursue her.
Fuck telling her that, though. Fuck not taking the last chance at the fastest run down the cliff yet, either. He pushed himself through the forest like a bullet suddenly expelled from a gun and reached the cliff-top first. Before she knew what had happened, he\'d landed at the bottom with only two points of contact made to the cliff-face in between and a whole lot of sexy adrenalin dumped into his dead veins in between. Almost reluctantly, he headed for the top once more, intent on pulling out the anchor spikes and packing everything away just as it had been when he\'d retrieved it. He\'d invite her inside his place when they got there to pack everything away but he expected she\'d demand to be returned to her bike and he intended to do that.
Hell, he\'d even get her a full can of petrol to boot. The last thing he needed was another enemy for no good reason.
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Bolting was out of the question; by this time, Morgaine was too thoroughly exhausted to run so much as an inch. Leave it to him, though, to make her feel out of shape as he launched himself off the cliff one more time, whipping her hair about her face as he plummeted past. Despite herself, the singer let slip a raw-throated whoop as he sailed past.
She reached the top at roughly the same time he reached bottom, and she collapsed gratefully upon the loose soil there, tearing her helmet off with shaky fingers. Panting, she rested there for a few moments as her companion began his ascent.
It wouldn\'t do for him to find her there, all splayed and panting and sweaty – much as she\'d like to curl up and fall asleep right there in the dirt – so she groaned, and went about wrestling the harness off.
Midway through extricating herself from the troublesome safety device, it occurred to her that she could, if she wanted to, tug up the vampire\'s anchor line and let him find his own way up the damn cliff. The thought gave her some pleasure, and she grinned – but not enough to make her actually go through with it. Besides, he knew where she lived, and if he\'d made her go through all this for two goddamn gallons of gas, who knew what he\'d have in store for her after such a stunt. She shuddered at the possibilities, and abandoned the thought.
Once out of her harness – leaving it a hopelessly tangled mess – she tore off her gloves, tossing them in the general direction of her helmet, and began coiling her rope (still unthinkingly attached to it\'s anchor.)
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Tom arrived to find his guest a fairly hopeless case, as far as packing up went. He tsked her a great deal, taking her rope from her and coiling it properly, telling her in admonishing tones what she should be doing - with everything. When it was all tied off and collected to his satisfaction, he shouldered the ropes and heavy gear, leaving her to carry the helmets, gloves and torch so she could see where she was going.
"Think you can manage that then, princess?" he asked mockingly, giving her a lazy smirk as he hefted his considerable rope burden, to space the weight of it a bit better. When he had her answer, he chuckled and led the way back down the mountain, not taking it too slowly for he was aware that the sun would be making an appearance into the world in just over an hour. It wouldn\'t do to be stuck out in the open when that happened.
He found her to be surprisingly docile when getting back on the bike - considering - and he tried his best to keep his hands to himself (though one wandering up her thigh so that his fingertips could tease at the inner seam didn\'t seem too much to ask, after all they\'d shared) as they drove at breakneck speeds back to his place. He was off the bike and had finished stowing the gear in about five minutes flat, taking a moment to stare at her before he got back on the bike.
"So," he announced casually, looking her over with his hands finding his slim hips automatically "how happy with you am I? Do you come inside with me for a bit more action before a well-earned rest, or do I drive you back to your bike with some gas for complying like the good, thieving bitch you are and letting you off the hook... this time?" His tone was conversational, lips twisted thoughtfully as he appeared to be genuinely offering her a choice.
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Tom\'s lecturing tone was made bearable to the singer by the fact that every time he turned his back, she took the liberty of silently mocking him in an unflattering yet comically accurate manner. Every time he turned around, however, to deliver some particularly important point, she was the very picture of attentiveness.
She had to jog to keep up with him, however, as they traversed back to the parking lot, and despite the jibe, she was indeed glad of her light burden.
It was, apparently, too much to expect from her to put up with his pawing, though, since she jumped off the motorcycle as if it were aflame the second it rolled to a stop in his garage. Brushing herself of indignantly, she stood back and let him put everything away to his satisfaction as her eyes roamed over the rest of the equipment lining the walls.
Her attention snapped back to her host as he spoke – though his words soon caused her to roll her eyes. The nerve on this guy was enough to make anyone sick.
A smirk soon replaced the exasperated expression and she sauntered over to the bike. Instead of taking her seat in front of him, however, she leaned over the front of the bike – legs spread to accommodate the front wheel, arms crossed on the handlebars. The angle gave him a nice view of her ample cleavage, most likely to deflect attention from her insolent words, "Saying that I\'ve been good is an insult to the worldwide thieving bitch community," she informed him, "I have been an Angel – nay, a very God among thieving bitches, for your information." The smirk widened, and she continued, "So now you\'re going to take me back to my bike, along with the gas I have oh-so-rightfully earned, and then I am going to go home and sleep the sleep of the righteous."She was positively grinning now, as she held out her hand, palm up, "Moreover, you\'re going to let me drive. And–" She held up her thumb and forefinger as if holding a gun pointed at his forehead "You\'re going to keep your hands to yourself." She\'d never claimed not to be a tease.
She didn\'t even address the possibility of there being a next time; if she stole from him again (which was highly unlikely, in any case) there was absolutely no way she\'d let him catch her.
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"Or," he interrupted, lifting his index finger as if he\'d just had a grand idea (those milk jugs of hers actually were rather distracting, so this exclamation was a good way to keep himself on track), "how about this? I give you ten bucks, lock you out of my house and leave your righteous ass to make its own fucking way across town to sleep wherever the fuck you drop, because I think, after the tutoring I gave you - not to mention the break - you don\'t get to make any rules, oh Thieving Bitch Goddess."
His tone was mocking, his smirk sultry in its superiority and he folded his arms over his broad chest for good measure while he looked her over from his great height. "Do it my way or fuck off."
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She cocked a brow and smirked right back. The smoking gun turned into a flat hand, palm up.
"Done," she said, "Pay up."
If he wanted to play that way, she didn\'t have any problems stepping to his game. Sure, the neighborhood wasn\'t the ritziest, but her buddies were still up and wreaking their own havoc. Calling one of them to come get her would be no skin off her nose. And with them, she wouldn\'t have to worry about anybody playing grabass, to boot.
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He frowned, regretting the offer of the money now and contemplating just shoving her out the door without it, because she was too fucking self-satisfied for her own good. Nothing seemed to faze her and that made the bitch very irritating (the fact that she also wasn\'t in the least interested in appeasing him grated, too)... and intriguing.
She was at least as tired as he was - more, probably, considering how she\'d had to push herself to get back up to the cliff top, even if she didn\'t have the imminent sunrise dragging on her bones - but she wasn\'t backing down. She also hadn\'t given him one interested look-over, despite blubbering she\'d do anything to get out of dying when he\'d first grabbed her that night.
Maybe that\'s where he was going wrong. His hands-on policy was going in all the wrong places. Her throat had worked a real treat last time; the thought of it split his lips in a grin.
"You think you\'ve earned it? Ten bucks, I mean? You think you\'ve earned it?" he asked, strolling over towards her, arms still folded across his body.
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She jerked upright as he approached, rocking the light frame of the bike slightly with the sudden motion. Belying her confident exterior, the grin flickered and vanished, only to be replaced with a disgusted sneer as he spoke.
This was exactly the reason she hadn\'t been checking him out – guys like him were a dime a dozen. The ones who used their size to intimidate, and who thought that just because they\'d been graced with good looks and charisma they had the right to do whatever they pleased. The apple was beautiful on the outside, but rotted through within.
She\'d played his demented game like a good little girl (though, she wasn\'t about to begin to admit how much fun she\'d had. Up until this point, she\'d even grown to like Tom). Then he\'d turned it around on her once again. On top of that, he had the nerve to back down on his offer, and ask if she thought she\'d earned it?! Fucking right she\'d earned it, but the singer was done playing, as of right now. Now he was just toying with her, and this bitch wasn\'t about to put up with it. She was tired and cranky, and if he was going to keep pulling shit like this, then she was willing to cut her losses and get the fuck out.
"You know what?" she said, too angry now to bother pandering to his predatory nature, "Fuck you." She moved away from him, skirting the bike, "Fuck your gas and your money and your goddamn infuriating motherfucking game. Fucking keep it. I\'m done. Lesson learned, debt paid. You win. Congratu-fucking-lations." Her eyes left his face long enough to scour the floor for her gas canister – which was conveniently located just behind his left foot, "Can I at least keep the shit I came with? Or is that too much to ask?" she spat the words at him, gesturing sharply toward the metal can. She crossed her arms across her chest, an insolent imitation, and glared up at him from across the small room.
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Tom laughed approvingly. "Well, well," he murmured, looking her over. "That\'s the thieving bitch attitude I expect from bitches like you - very, very nasty, by the way. Especially since you won\'t fuck me - but I\'ll just have to work on that," he grinned smugly, as if he had a plan. Really, he was just pleased that her aloof exterior had finally cracked.
Nonchalantly, he picked up the cannister and fitted it back into the bag closest to him, before tossing her the keys and climbing onto the back of the bike (at the rear, where he would ride best as a pillion). "Okay then; stop your flaps waggling, drive us to the station nearest your bike and I\'ll buy you some fuel," he said mildly, resting a hand on each thigh.
Now that he\'d managed to force her impatience a little, he was smiling like an angel once more, and looking at her like it was her fault they weren\'t getting anywhere fast.
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The glare Morgaine fixed on Tom would have been enough to stop a raging bull in it\'s tracks. As it was, however, she simply snatched the keys out of the air when they were tossed and took her place on the bike, choosing not to dignify his remarks by responding.
She reversed out of the garage at an alarming speed, and took off into the waning night. Tom still couldn\'t seem to keep his hands from wandering, despite the high speed at which the traveled, but the ride was over soon enough – she pulled into a 24-hour gas station about ten blocks from Risk, cut the engine, and slid off the bike. Her movements were stiff with pent up anger as she took the can from it\'s hiding place – slamming the saddlebag\'s lid closed harder than was necessary – and pumped gas into it.
While she waited for the can to fill, she glared intently at the numbers scrolling away on the machine\'s readout, arms crossed over her chest, toe tapping impatiently, the keys to Tom\'s bike gripped in one tightly balled fist. Throughout all of this, she refused to throw one glance in Tom\'s direction. She was not speaking to him.
Morgaine knew she was pouting, but goddammit, she was tired, her muscles ached all over – not to mention her throat, where dusky purple bruises were forming under the dark skin in a perfect impression of where the vampire\'s fingers had pressed the hardest – and she was being forced to pander to a man whose infuriating smugness was matched only by his ability to leave her, writhing in pain, to die in an alley. She felt she had a right to pout. Plus, he had made her lose her composure, twice, now, without even trying. This in itself made her more unhappy than she was willing to admit.
It only took so long to pump two gallons of gas, however, so the singer\'s inner monologue was cut short, and she was forced, once again, to interact with her companion. Still glaring resolutely at the numbers fixed on the readout, she said, in a tight voice, "Gonna pay the nice man behind the counter, like you promised?" The man inside the little store was indeed watching them – more accurately, watching Morgaine – with a healthy dose of suspicion.
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Tom considered the guy in question from his casual position on the bike, then got off lazily. "Pay him... kill him," he shrugged, goading her with a smarmy smile, "whatever\'s easiest."
He wanted to goad her and he was watching her intently, wanting to see her react to the thought that he\'d walk into the station and simply end the worker\'s life, for two gallons of petrol. He wanted to know what she thought about that and was looking for it in her face, even as he got to the counter and engaged the guy in conversation - just to drag the suspense out a bit.
Tom looked out at Morgaine the whole time, grinning and chatting, but eventually he pulled his wallet out and paid obediently, before leaving teh store quickly. He headed for his bike, feeling the need to sleep crawling through his bones, no longer just nudging them. He needed to get home fast, the sun was coming up, but he smiled at his companion as he approached the bike.
"All squared away, sweetheart," he told her cheerfully. "You can go now. I know where to find you if I get bored." His grin was broad and also provocative as he swung a long leg over his bike and held his hand out for the key.
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The tactic worked. Her foot stooped tapping immediately as his flippant comment sank in. The glare fell slowly from her face, replaced by an expression somewhere between fear, shock, and suspicion. Her eyes slid toward him, only to find that he no longer occupied the space where he\'d been.
Her head whipped around – followed by her body – eyes wide, only to find him already inside the store, where she couldn\'t do anything. Since he didn\'t seem to be doing anything violent, she let her body relax, watching through narrowed eyes. She was aware he was watching her, and when he left the store she was furious with herself for taking the bait. Again.
Morgaine\'s expression only reflected a tight-lipped annoyance, however, as he approached. Glad to be finally getting away, she scooped up her now-full gas can.
"Don\'t get bored," she suggested, and, with a bitchy little smile of her own, let the keys drop to the pavement at her feet instead of tossing them to him. She whistled as she sidled away from him, hips swaying toward the sunrise.
The whistling ceased after a block, the sidle became a tired plod in half that time, but she didn\'t allow herself to begin to relax until she was in sight of her bike.
Despite everything, part of her hoped he\'d pay her a visit, sometime – because – even in this freakshow of a town – she might get bored, too.