| Struck Dumb |
[30 Jun 2009|04:10pm] |
The apartment was silent but for the tick of a solitary clock. Each strike of the second hand thundered. Each space between, as soundless as the vacuum of space. Two figures squared off against one another. The man stood by the window, his spine as rigid as a pole, his back to the sun. The woman, who had paused her pacing to examine a fingernail, began once again. Her heels clicked as rhythmically as the time.
Perhaps it was Darian's imagination, but the wall-mounted clock seemed to move at a crawl. He checked his watch, in case the batteries had gone bad. No such luck. He made an abrupt departure to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He thought about offering her one, but didn't.
After the last heated argument, the Dealmaker didn't know what to say to her. He found himself at a loss. Each time he opened his mouth, an unwise sentence leaped onto his tongue. Sooner or later, he'd provoke Bethany into a knock-down, drag-out, physical fight, if he didn't reign in his temper. He rubbed his mouth to keep it shut.
She pivoted and a tiny fleck of dirt ground against the floor. His body tensed. It felt like a two-hundred pound person was standing on each of his shoulders. Darian pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to swallow the complaint, but it boiled up anyway. "Bethany? The only thing worse than the sound of that clock... is the pacing. Could you stand still for two minutes?"
( Placing Blame )
( Pinch Them, They're Dreaming )
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| Last Stand |
[30 Jun 2009|06:46pm] |
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mood |
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 angry |
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OOC: Takes place during the big AU plot and totally backdated to then.
The final showdown was something to behold, but in all the motion and movement, two of the women became separated from the rest, the sound of heavy boots on the ground after them as they found a corner to hide in.
Neither Jennifer or Kris were particularly physically strong, and Jennifer's mind was still trying to recover from having used her powers, so the trembles were wracking her body and she needed as much support as any injured person.
"Stop!" Tobias shouted, his weapon drawn and raised as he chased them, shooting two electric bullets after the women. Against his other leg rested his pistol that fired brass stakes with a silver tip, effective on the human and were enemies they had. He flicked his wrist to recharge his gun and pulled the other. "Submit and be purged or I will shoot!"
He was one of the best marksmen in this unit. Not the best, but one of them.
( Run! )
( Suffering )
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