javier diego casanovamaya. (fastforwards) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-16 02:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, harlow hart, javier diego amaya |
WHO: Harlow Hart and Javier Diego Amaya.
WHEN: Backdated to Saturday the 12th, at the end of Pub Night.
WHERE: Outside of the pub warehouse.
WHAT: Yet another scandalous thing that happened Saturday night.
WARNINGS: None really?
STATUS: Complete.
HARLOW: It was difficult to make anything out by the barest sliver of moonlight. "Can't see a thing," Harlow said, realizing shortly after that this wasn't what you wanted to say to a man who'd only seconds before dropped his pants, standing outside in the desert at midnight. "No, wait, it's just the dark, I'll -" she pulled her phone from the pocket of her dress, crouching down and turning the face of it toward his leg, casting a soft glow. Another moment passed, and then her index finger darted out. "Here," she said, with as light a touch she could manage in case it was still tender. "Why did you want it to stay?" Curious as always Harlow ducked around the other side to see the match, each irregular circle like a small hive that had indented rather than raised, smooth and offset from the otherwise uniform musculature. She stood, biting her lip to keep from chastising him for not being careful - care alone didn't keep one from getting shot, and Javier was, she imagined, more noble and self-sacrificing than he was concerned for his own well-being. "Is it going to be a reminder, or is it just to give you a good reason to take your pants off?" she teased. It was the most light-hearted Harlow had been since returning, with two and a half drinks in her and an evening of mostly pleasant remembrances, but even then there was still a hint of sadness around the corners of her joke. JAVIER: As much as he'd joked about showing off the gunshot to girls (mainly under the influence of heavy painkillers), it had taken all three of his drinks in unusually rapid succession for Javier to not feel self-conscious about undoing his pants in a semi-public place to display the scar left behind after Anthony's healing. His body was nothing to be ashamed of, especially since he'd come to IVI and started regular physical training, but he wasn't a casual exhibitionist and he was well aware that he couldn't compare to certain muscle-bound men -- like Sam. Yet there he was, belt open, slacks around his knees, and black boxer-briefs mercifully forgiving in the warm evening night, watching Harlow shine the light of her phone on his skin so that she could brush her fingertips against the pucker of scar tissue. For all that she was a friend, it was difficult not to pay attention to his mind reaching wildly for a different end to this scenario, challenging not to reach down and run his fingers along her cheek, through her long waves of hair. He had manners, but he was still a guy. "Ehhh, can't it be both?" he grinned as he pulled his pants up again, grateful for the distraction of re-fastening his belt with slightly clumsy fingers. "I cannot tell people the story of the time I was shot if I have no evidence to prove that I am not lying, no?" Javier patted the spot, now hidden beneath his pants. "And it is for me to remember never to let anyone get that close to me with a gun. I didn't knock it out of his hand at the first try, it was my mistake." Turning toward the dormitories -- that was their destination, though they'd paused for a moment so that Javier could give his demonstration -- he bent his arm and offered the crook of it to Harlow. "May I escort you the rest of the way, señorita?" HARLOW: Why was it that whenever she drank, ideas seemed to be composed of sheer brilliance until a sudden moment of clarity exposed exactly how awkward of a situation she had placed herself in? Nawal had left to see to Mo's 'tea issues' and Harlow had been contemplating heading back herself before a pleasant level of inebriation turned into something melancholy. Javier had appeared then, with another warm hug that was better than the words of sympathy or consolation that others offered, better than steeling herself to teach Moa the things that Mal had taught her. They had shared a third drink together, ending the night with talk of the successful rescues, rather than the ones they hadn't been able to bring back. It had felt like a natural conclusion at the time, wandering a ways away from the rest of the revelers returning to the dorms once the evening was declared over. It had seemed more sensible than suggesting a stop in one of their bedrooms, for him to show her, as already promised, the damage done to his leg. The scar had been the focus with his pants down, she had managed to joke as he fastened them around his waist again, and his response had even been an appropriate blend of banter and brooding, eliciting a nod of agreement from Harlow. Why then did she feel her cheeks flush in the balmy darkness when she slipped her phone back in her pocket, and her arm through his? Something to talk about. Something that wasn't directly to do with thighs or gunshots or kidnappings. Had he spoken to anyone in his family since becoming a bona fide hero? Probably not, probably more of a sting than his leg at this point. The memorial wasn't something she wanted to bring up either. As remarkable as the weather was, it was still the weather. "Tell me about Marrakesh?" she asked finally. "I always wanted to travel, someday; see exotic places." JAVIER: He was comfortable with Harlow; it was easy to talk to her, easy to trust her, even her arm fit easily against his own. She was a good friend, and he had been glad to see her again when they'd returned to IVI, even if the circumstances surrounding the days since their return had been shrouded with sorrow. He could still embrace her, try to make her smile, talk about things that might distract her and occupy her for a little while longer to help her get through the lingering memories of her friends who were gone. It lightened his heart to see her smile even just a little bit. Harlow wasn't the kind of girl who fascinated him, the kind who could make him abandon reason and wind him around her little finger -- she didn't have that charged sensuality -- but she had kindness and a strength that he admired and charm, too. She was special in her own right. He had found himself wishing from time to time that she'd been a loner like him and Carmela, free to come along on their trip, but it was a selfish thought that he'd discarded quickly each time because he knew that seeing her family was better, of course. And he knew that she would never say to his face that she took that privilege for granted. "It was amazing," he replied warmly, still smiling in the darkness as they ambled towards the dorms. "It reminded me of home, but different... I loved the bazaar, wandering through the marketplace every day and seeing pounds of fresh saffron, fresh fish, fruits and grains, listening to people haggling over prices. We went dancing at night. It was beautiful even to walk through the alleys, to find little courtyards and Arabic archways where you least expected them to be. You hear the prayers sung from the towers every day. It feels sometimes like you are in a timeless place." Clasping his hand over hers, he patted her wrist. "When we get out of here, you should see these places. People are friendly everywhere, and it is easy to plan these trips, if you know how to make the most of your money. I will even be your guide, if you want!" HARLOW: She liked listening to Javier talk. Texts on her phone, messages on the network, they made it harder to imagine the cadence of his voice, the different pronunciations that made her wish she understood more than ten words of Spanish. It was easier to get lost in the sound of the story when walking like this, imagining the sights he was describing so fondly. "I think I'd like that," Harlow mused, considering anew the notion of seeing the world, opening her mind to new things. It wasn't wrong to assume that Harlow was naive about her station in life. She hadn't stayed close to home because of family or money, both of which would always be accessible for her when she needed them. Fear was what had made her dig her heels in before, fear that she would get nervous on a plane and wind up stranded in the middle of an ocean or standing stark naked in a barren sandscape that stretched on even beyond refracted mirages. "I used to get nervous at the idea of flying," she confessed, downplaying as best she could. "I thought I might fall out of the sky, if I couldn't control my powers. But maybe now that I'm improving with that I can do more things I thought I wouldn’t be able to, or at least..." oh, it would be embarrassing to have him witness it if he was her travelling companion. "They give me drugs, on the flights to and from here. We could see if I can rival you for spilling secrets and wisdom while high as a kite." JAVIER: Laughing, he arched an eyebrow at Harlow for the teasing. "I would like to see you try. Like I said, I am very wise and full of secrets." He tapped the side of his temple. "There is many generations worth of gypsy wisdom in my head, you see, so it is much to compete with. And my personal life, well..." The sigh he gave was exaggeratedly dramatic, both self-mocking and fairly tipsy. "Full of secrets. It is always like a telenova! You would not know it, judging from how I have been here, but back home I was the boring one. 'Javier, so responsible, he never does anything crazy...'" He put on a heavier accent for a moment, ostensibly playing one of his cousins for Harlow's benefit. "Always trying to make my father happy." Well, that was a little more serious than he'd meant for it to be. What were they talking about again? "You have gotten so much better with your power, you know. I think if you focused you wouldn't even need the drugs." Back on-topic, he glanced sidelong at her. "You are the sort of person who can do anything that you put your mind to, bonita -- once you let go of your fear, there is nothing that can stop you, I know this. You went first on your rescue. You were brave. You can fly, Harlow, trust me when I say it." HARLOW: Harlow watched in amazement and amusement at whatever ‘gypsy wisdom’ entailed, being acted out before her eyes, trusting Javier to guide her path home and focusing instead on his face, lively in the little light that shone from the nearby buildings. The only thing she knew about his personal life was he had been enamoured of Mariana for months now, seemed unsure if he wanted to be or not, had gone on holiday with her friend, who was also apparently also only his friend - well, she didn't know much about his father, but telenovela might not have been a joke? There was something vaguely embarrassing about continuing to watch as he turned serious again, so Harlow smiled shyly and turned her gaze to the ground under an onslaught of praise and encouragement that felt distinctly unmerited. She could remember other times he'd insisted that she would do good things, would master her powers, take better control of her life. She could fly on an airplane, she could rescue their friends, she could have sex without making the news headlines. Silence reigned for a few steps as she tried to figure out what it was she wanted to say, and then she reined in their progress back to the dorms. "I think I do," she said, craning her neck to meet his eyes. "I don't know why; I don't know why you have so much confidence in me either, but you're always like this - kind, and encouraging, and - I guess I just feel lucky that I get to be someone you support like this. So... thank you." JAVIER: Her gratitude stopped him, his feet coming to a pause within a step or two as he slowed Harlow down alongside him. She had said nice things to him before, but somehow it was different this time; her sincerity and openness was like a bolt to his mind, and Javier studied her face in a new light. He'd always seen her as pretty, with her soft waves of brown hair and heart-shaped face and the smile that never failed to shine in her eyes beneath her dark-framed glasses. But she'd been a...companion. He had slept with girls who were friends before, more of them than he'd had girlfriends in fact, but they'd been the type to approach him under the influence of alcohol and make everything simple. The line between sex and friendship had been fluid there. Here, he wasn't sure. He was confused, and unsure of what that meant. His free hand rose to touch her face, his thumb coasting along the curve of her cheekbone as he frowned slightly. Mariana, his thoughts whispered. No, he reminded himself, firmly. Not now. She doesn't want you. "You are amazing, Harlow," he told her solemnly. "Anyone who meets you should be able to see that immediately, the brightness and...duende, ehhh..." He fumbled for a translation. "The music in your soul." A soft sound left his lips -- his tongue clicking against his teeth in frustration at himself -- before he leaned down, slowly, and kissed her. It was what he wanted to do, honestly, in the moment when he looked at her and wondered why he had not yet seen her like this before. He was stupid, he knew, pathetically dense at times, but Javier had a way of seeing the best in every woman, and yet he hadn't studied this side of her until now. He almost wanted to apologize. "I see you," he murmured instead in Spanish when he pulled back, and kissed her again, unaware that he was quoting Avatar. HARLOW: She had held impeccably still when he reached out to touch her, unaccustomed to this kind of attention. Half a breath held in her lungs as he spoke, threatening to bubble out in nervous laughter. It was the earnest way he was looking at her that kept her frozen to the spot, uncertain if she understood his meaning. What was happening? It wasn't the first time she'd been confused about the nature of subtext in a conversation with Javier, but in the past it had been easy enough to fall back to friendship, to remind herself that he was interested in someone else. It was harder to define when his head dipped down, stooping almost to make up for the extreme height difference between them, and she was faced with the choice of rising up and turning her face to meet him or shying away. A quiet voice gave warning that this was dangerous, this made things disorderly, this wasn't something that was compatible with a simple friendship where he fancied another girl and she was grieving a love she’d never properly had in her grasp. The series of 7&7s she'd drank helped to muffle it. Why couldn't she want to kiss him, if he was the one initiating things? Up went her chin, lungs and stomach warm with bated breath and nervous anticipation that started to melt away with the kiss. She tried to memorize whatever his words sounded like, but concentration slipped away with the second kiss. Her fingertips were splayed wide, landing light as a feather on his stomach, craving some sort of touch to help ground her. Back came the voice, harsher than before; you’re not Mariana. Should she risk lending it her own, or simply carry on and hope for the best? JAVIER: His arms slid around her back without hesitation, both to support her on her tiptoes and to pull her flush against his chest, widening the points of electric contact between them. His hands spread along her spine. Her warmth was bleeding into him, slowly but surely seeping into his muscles and starting to burn like flames licking just beneath his skin, and when he shifted, even the slight friction of fabric moving against his body lit up his nerves like tiny explosions. Where her curves pressed against him felt like nuclear reactions catalyzed by longing, by time, by restraint and waiting. Shit, he thought, dazed and a little stunned by the force of his desire -- he should have listened to Carter, he should have slept with someone ages ago. It had been six months. Six months of being at a school full of available women, some of them sexy and attractive and charming and willing to sleep with him perhaps even if he was on the same team as them -- and yet he'd thrown that time away for no damn reason. She was so small that he wanted to pick her up in his arms and pull her legs around his waist, but kissing her was more absorbing for the moment. He dipped her back slightly instead, feeling her hair tumble across his fingers like feathers, and let his hand ease a little lower on her body. He wasn't interested in questioning his motives or his reasoning anymore. Harlow was beautiful, she was here, and he wanted to make her feel good. He wanted to taste her, to feel her pulse racing beneath his mouth -- this was perfectly normal, this level of intense need overwhelming him, right? He just needed to maintain some restraint. Keep it slow. Breathe in her scent as he pulled back to nuzzle at her jaw, kissed the soft skin below her ear, exhaled her name against her throat. But he didn't want to go slow. He thought about pulling her down to the ground right then and there, even. And when his mouth found hers once more, it was with more hunger and urgency, one hand freeing itself from her back to tangle through her hair and catch her head in a firm grasp. For a person with a sweet, gentle nature like Javier, he had only ever found himself letting go and pouring his passion into this one thing: sex. There was nothing more romantic to him than losing control and bringing a girl to the edge with him. He barely heard the sound intruding from the distance. It was faint at first, filtering through the roaring of blood racing in his ears and the sound of her breath growing more labored, but he untangled himself with a groan after a moment and stared at her, the promise of all the things he wanted to do to her fading as it was replaced by confusion in his hazy dark eyes. "What is that?" he murmured in Spanish as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. "...A fire alarm?" HARLOW: That last part sounded suspiciously like English. “What?” Harlow tore her eyes away from his, though her fist still held a ball of his shirt tight in its grasp. Why did this keep happening to her? Just as she managed to squash the paranoia that he was going to say a name that wasn’t hers, get rid of thinking all together really in favor of how shockingly good he was making her feel, everything stopped. She wanted to complain, reach up and pull his face back down to hers, insist that whatever was happening was less urgent than the twisting feeling in her stomach when it had felt like he might have wanted to pick her up and carry her... where? Harlow glanced to the dorms as a door banged open and a slow trickle of students turned into the steady stream of a complete evacuation. "I think you're right," she murmured, dismay all too plain in her tone, though for once she wasn't lamenting the thought of a classmate possibly being injured, so much as her own amusement being interrupted. Only then did she let go of him, reluctant and frustrated in a way she wasn't familiar with, tugging her skirt down and ruffling her hair in an attempt to make whatever mess he'd made look like an intentional fashion choice. What should she say? Mal had been an acquaintance - if you were being generous with the term - and it had been easy enough to simply flee after that interruption. Javier was a friend - if you were being stingy - and quite obviously skilled at whatever had been about to happen. Neither of them was the sort who would ignore classmates in danger though, so Harlow slipped her hand into his and squeezed. "Let's go." |