Saoirse (seersha) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-04-17 17:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-07-10, saoirse |
I don't hate you, I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
Who: Graham, Saoirse, and Kismet (NPC)
Where: Heme (OH SHIT, IN PERSON THIS TIME, GAIZ)
When: Late evening
Graham was fully aware of the fact that there were demons running around. Hell, Kismet would not shut up about it the entire day. All she did was flutter about in his face bitching and moaning about how, you know, he could die tonight. Dear god, forget dying via your blood getting sucked out. Some nasty faced mofo is going to mess you up before you can even GET to Jezebelle's place! Why don't you even go there now? Where are you driving to? This is NOT the way to her house! Are you-
"Holy fuck, I'm going to die from an aneurism thanks to you before a demon gets to me." He did his best to ignore the moth and kept driving. There were several things he wanted to do that night before heading off to Jezebelle's place. If he was to go through with this whole turning thing, then he wanted to have a couple drinks before he did so. Sadly for him, there was only one bar in the area that was deemed a safe haven from demons - Heme. This would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact that his lovely ex-girlfriend who fucking MIND RAPED him last week worked there. Maybe she had the night off. That would be perfect if that was the case. Though at the same time he wanted to see her. He wanted to lay everything out on the table once and for all, especially after the dream he had with her in it.
Rolling on up to the bar, he briskly made his way inside, finding himself not overwhelmed with the typical blaring music, but instead with a gentle harp. Raising a brow, he made his way to the bar, ordering himself his typical dry martini, and even had the balls to ask the bartender if Saoirse was on tonight. "Eyes to the stage, man," was all the bartender said with a grin. Blinking for a second, he finally turned his head to eye the stage, and his jaw just dropped. It was her. And holy crap, her hair was red again. Just like when they first met. Hearing Saoirse play again was amazing. Beyond that even. Hell, there were no words to describe how wonderful it was to indulge in her music. Too bad that wouldn't last forever. With their track record, Graham was expecting to leave the bar with a black eye at bare minimum.
Saoirse still wasn't back at 100%. That damn wound still hadn't fully closed, and Saoirse was beginning to wonder if the damn thing ever would. It had closed maybe 90% of the way, but it was still there, and she was still losing blood. Since yesterday, however, she no longer looked like her veins had turned to iron. The black welts and veins had gone away, and she felt a little more like herself. What was more, she could be around humans without feeling the desperate desire to feed.
She still wanted to. God, did she want to. The wound was making her need three times the amount of blood she normally would. But she was back under control. So today, she had returned to work. Apparently, just when they needed all the help they could get. Good timing, eh?
She was glad Heme had become a safe haven again, even if just for PR-related reasons. It did pull tonight's performance into question, though. It seemed like bad timing. In the end, Saoirse had decided to tone it down. Nix the band, save for a friend on an acoustic for a few songs, and try to film the room with soothing music. As always, performing probably helped Saoirse more than it did anyone else. She felt at home on stage, and like she was exactly where she needed to be. When it was over, she smiled brightly and took her bow, and mingled about before returning to the bar. She'd go back to her normal job, of course, and she was pretty desperate for a drink.
Wait, who is that? Kismet demanded while crawling about in his hair, poking out to try and catch a glimpse of Saoirse. "That right there is the death of me," he remarked before taking another sip of his martini. He didn't want to say it like that, but it sure as hell felt like that. Once the song was over, he joined in on the applause for her, because the girl definitely deserved it. After all her hard work, she deemed herself worthy of such praise. And then she was heading off the stage... and back to the bar... and right to where Graham was sitting. La-dee-fucking-da... awesome. As much as he wanted to ignore her, he had to say something. The two of them couldn't dwell in silence forever. "Good to see you're still kicking ass with your music thing," he called out to her with a slight smile tugging on his lips. Kismet just twitched her antennas with confusion and added, But can wasn't kicking any- "Oh my god," he grumbled while facepalming, "shut up for two seconds."
Saoirse froze when she realized Graham was at the bar. That was rather unexpected. In the dream, he'd said he had left. She had assumed that meant he wouldn't come back. But of course, she wasn't supposed to know that.
She blinked at the voice in her head, and realized it was coming from the moth. Graham had a familiar. Wow. Curiosity sort of won over the urge to ignore Graham and walk away. "We don't get a lot of familiars in here," she said. "Vampires make animals uneasy. Does it do the same for insects?" And hey, she actually managed to try and look at the moth when she spoke. She liked familiars, dammit. In another life, maybe she could have had one too.
Before Graham could even get a single word in, Kismet was there to butt in and take the spotlight. Vampires don't make me uneasy, but you're all so COLD! And when he realized she had more to say than just that, he just rested his face in his hands and waited for the storm to be over. Gah, I don't like it! Not at all! I mean, if you were warmer, I wouldn't mind. But no cold! She even fluttered out of his hair to circle around Saoirse's head, then hovered before her face. You don't seem too bad, but I like him better. And with a tiny "Hmph!" she flew on back to Graham and nestled into his hair, cooing all the while. "You done?" Yes! "Wow, a fucking first..." He dropped his hands from his face to eye the redhead and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I didn't see the "No pesky moths allowed" sign on the front door coming in."
Saoirse actually looked amused, before the moth flew back to Graham and she remembered, you know, it belonged to him. She fixed her attention back on the douche in question and shrugged. "There isn't one. Though had there been, I doubt it would have stopped you." Mainly because he wouldn't have seen it at all, or just wouldn't have given a shit. Saoirse walked around him to get behind the bar, and immediately set to making herself a large drink. She had a feeling she was going to need it. "Surprised to see you back here," she said, without looking at him. Maybe this would be over soon.
Probably wouldn't have, though it would have given him an excuse to leave Kismet outside. From the looks of it, Saoirse seemed to like his tiny familiar, which was awesome in such a horrible way. Of course she would love the moth that constantly nagged at him and acted as his only logical side. Saoirse would love that. "Really?" Then again, last time the two of them were in Heme together, that didn't go so well. "Surprised to see me back here because last time you chewed me out or surprised because you thought I was still in New England?" Oh yes. He went there. And was staying there for a long while. Graham was certain she would catch his point. Besides, she was the one who invaded his dream.
Saoirse looked up and raised an eyebrow. "You were in New England?" she asked, without missing a beat. Well. This was interesting. Graham knew about the dream. Or thought he did. Saoirse was pretty confident she could act her way out of this one. She sipped her blood - it felt so good against her throat she had to close her eyes and lean back against the shelf - and played clueless. Nope, she didn't know nothing. Not a damn thing.
Either Saoirse really wasn't in his dream and Jezebelle had lied to him or she was doing one hell of a job covering it up. And seeing that Jezebelle had no reason to know who Saoirse Shaddock was except through a visit paid to her, which was the result of Graham slipping on information in his dream, he was going to go with the latter. "Yeah, just for the weekend. Wanted to get away from this shit hole for a while. Only came back to more shit, go figure. Like finding out you met up with Jez." Downing the rest of his drink, he slammed the martini glass onto the table and stared at Saoirse. "Trying to figure out which is more fucked up: the fact I almost got my ass kicked by a vampire or the fact you knew who she was."
So that's how this was going to go? Saoirse stared back at him, expression never wavering, eyebrow still raised. "Graham, discretion has never really been your thing. And there aren't a lot of vampire dealings in this town that escape my house. You come into a crowded vampire bar talking about your little business arrangement and think that was hard to piece together? People told me who it probably was that same evening. I thought I might as well pay her a visit." Oh yes, cool as could be. Saoirse threw her head back and drained the rest of her blood, before setting the glass down and facing Graham again. "Did she tell you she almost killed me? That was fun."
Discretion was hard for someone who was constantly saying whatever came to mind and usually not keeping all that quiet about it. And as far as he knew, Saoirse didn't have name to go with his dealer until he mentioned it in the dream. Graham was fully prepared to retort with something, but the second she mentioned she almost died after meeting Jezebelle, he froze. It took a moment for all of that to register in his mind and in the meantime kept staring at her with a blank look and his mouth halfway opened as if he was about to say something. No, this shouldn't have surprised him, especially with how pissed off Jezebelle was about it. Especially when she herself mentioned he wouldn't like what she had done to Saoirse, though never explained further. Yeah, no shit, because she almost killed her. Awesome. That brightened his night right the fuck up like a fluorescent lightbulb. "...what?"
Oh! Excellent! She hadn't told him at all! How fucking wonderful. Just thinking about it made Saoirse angry all over again. "We're not having this conversation here," she said. "There are enough panicked people around without having to hear the fucked up tale. If you want to talk, we need to do it elsewhere." And hey, she was actually managing to not drag him around like she had last time. Progress.
Graham was a bit clueless from time to time in the common sense department with his impulsive behavior and all, but he wasn't that retarded. He knew going elsewhere meant there was to be a verbal argument and all. At least it didn't involve her taking shots of blood and punching people in the face... hopefully... maybe? "Lead on then. I'll be right behind you." And with that he stood up from his seat, fishing out his wallet to at least pay for his drink before taking a trip to hell.
Aw, nuts. He was taking her up on that. Saoirse wasn't sure if this was a good idea, herself. Outside would have been preferable, but adding physical danger to everything else was not her idea of a good time. There was the option of the back room again, but she quickly thought the better of that. So she lead him to the small area backstage, used for performance equipment. Only once there, she didn't really know what the fuck she was supposed to say. 'How do you fuck something so crazy and homicidal' didn't seem like a good opening line.
Funny thing about that, because Graham wasn't sure what to say either. Then again, none of this should have surprised him. Jezebelle was in a family of assassins. Hell, the random guy they killed off together was her idea of having fun. Trying to kill Saoirse was probably natural to her. Though he understood to some extent that killing was bad and all, he could only imagine that Saoirse did something to provoke Jezebelle. She didn't seem psychopathic enough to randomly decide to kill her. Resting his back up against a wall, he watched Kismet suddenly becoming intrigued with a light in the room and flutter around it all sorts giddy. "Ok... so do you care to clue me in on any of this shit or are we just going to stand here all night and stare at each other?"
Saoirse grit her teeth and nodded. There was the anger again! Good, she'd hold on to that. "She skewered me like a luau pig with a fire-poker. Impaled me through the heart. The iron alone would have been enough to jack me up, but apparently Shadowbitch doesn't half-ass anything. A friend found me half-drained and unstable beneath a tree, and I would have died - a second, permanent death - if not for him! The wound still hasn't closed. It might never close. I spent the last few days bedridden and I'm not even capable of sleep!"
Regardless of the fact that he was taller than Saoirse by a good amount, he felt all of two inches tall around her when she chewed him out. Well, so much for staring in silence. That actually sounded like a good idea right about now. Seemed like Jezebelle did quite a number on her and part of Graham wanted to give the redhead a hug and apologize for- wait, why would he apologize? None of this was his fault. She was the one who did this all to herself. She made the bright ass decision to go pay the drug dealing, assassin vampire a visit. Wow, and she thought Graham was dense. "Are you serious?! Fuck, what am I saying, you don't fucking make this shit up. I... god damn it." He rang his fingers through his hair while trying to calm himself down, his heart racing dramatically at the thought of Saoirse dying in such a way. "The hell did you even do to get a fire poker jabbed through you?!"
"Are you saying I deserved it?!" Saoirse demanded. That shit was Vital to know, right the hell now. "Is there anything I'm capable of doing that deserves attempted murder?! Attempted murder by a goddamn fire poker impaling?!" And no, she was not answering that question. Not until she got her answer, dammit.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, NO. You do NOT deserve this! You deserve anything but this! You don't deserve to be skewered and left to die. You don't deserve to be dragged into my own bullshit that has NOTHING to do with you. You don't deserve to be listening a single word I have to say, but you know what? Fuck it! Part of me is pissed that you decided to come into my fucking dream UN-FUCKING-ANNOUNCED and more or less squeezed information out of me without my consent and then you go off to hunt Jez down? You thought THAT was a good idea?! Shit, I don't even know what you two said except that you threatened her well-being! What the hell was that going to do for you?! What fucking benefit do YOU get from it?! Fuck, Seer, are you trying to kill me through a heart attack? You might as well rip my heart out right now. Might be easier and get it over it, right? I don't mean a fucking thing to you anymore and you made it QUITE FUCKING OBVIOUS last time I was here in this bar!" And that was what happened when you plucked at a fire elemental's nerves.
Okay. Well. Fuck denying the whole dream thing. Saoirse was now angry enough to thoroughly not give a shit. "YOU ARE THE MOST SELF ABSORBED PIECE OF SHIT THAT EVER WALKED THE EARTH, DO YOU KNOW THAT?" she shouted back. "Do you remember ANYTHING else I said in that dream? Not that I fucking wanted to be there in the first place, I ended up there on accident! But once I was there I tried to help you! I got you out of that shithole and gave you something that would make you happy, and oh yeah, fucking TOLD YOU that I get so angry at you because you turn everything around and interpret everything into something that will justify your neverending quest to be a suicidal emo douchetard that never thinks about anyone else's damn feelings for once! I did go to Jezebelle to try and get her to stay away from you, and you know what? I'M NOT FUCKING ASHAMED OF THAT. I didn't do anything WRONG! STUPID, maybe, I won't deny that! But that PSYCHOTIC BITCH still IMPALED ME THROUGH THE FUCKING HEART!" And because she was that damn pissed, she yanked her shirt down enough to expose the wound, and then pulled the bandage away enough to actually show it. Yep, still not closed, and dripping blood the second it was exposed. Asshole.
It was kind of sad that her rant summed him up in a nutshell. Then again, he would have liked to see someone live his life and try to come out better. Before he could get another word in, Saoirse was there to show off the lovely wound that was in her chest, all thanks to Jezebelle. Now was not the time to be torn between his emotions for both Saoirse and Jezebelle. He wanted to tell Jezebelle to stay away from Saoirse and, you know, not fucking skewer her. Just like how he wanted to tell Saoirse to stay away from Jezebelle so she wouldn't die the next time around. Because neither of them deserve this and of course Graham had to be stuck in the middle. Sighing hard, his eyes flicked on back up to hers, fire burning in his eyes as he tried to calm down.
"Why the fuck are you doing this, Seer? What good is going to come out of this? What you think is good for me is obviously not on the same wave length with what I have in mind. Maybe you need to stay the fuck away. Maybe you need to stop giving a shit and get off your high horse and just deal with the fucking fact I'm not going to change. Not even for you. So for fuck's sake, STOP TRYING. I don't need your help! Your little stunt? Obviously not helping, seeing you're the one with a hole in your chest. I don't want to see you hurt, Seer! You're the LAST person I want to see hurt and the only way that can happen is staying away from you. I mean, fuck, are you getting PAID or something to stay on my ass? THE FUCK DO I EVEN MATTER TO YOU ANYMORE?!"
Well, that hurt. Saoirse felt a little bit like she'd been slapped, but one fact did help slightly cushion the blow: he had come here. "I ended up in your dream on ACCIDENT, and after that, I was PERFECTLY CONTENT to never see you again! I went to Jezebelle on the off-chance that you ever came back to town! You tell me to butt out and stay away, but GUESS WHAT, ASSHOLE? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAME TO ME THIS TIME. And the last time! Why the fuck do you keep showing up? Why the fuck can't you let go? I have an excuse! You, you inconsiderate assclowning fucking doucherocket, were my first love! And you're incapable of looking out for yourself, so someone fucking has to! Don't worry, you can consider my hands thoroughly washed now! So what the fuck is your excuse?"
Getting kicked in the nuts then having them removed so he could bleed to death would have been more enjoyable than Saoirse's barrage of words. Graham had himself prepared for her verbal attack, and even had a retort to throw back at her, right up until she dropped a shit ton of bricks on top of his head. She loved him. Back when everything was perfect during that one summer. And knowing that completely crushed Graham. More so than knowing she had been stabbed in the heart. His face dropped immediately as he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. What the fuck was he suppose to say in response to that? Tilting his head back, Graham took in a deep breath and tried to calm down. If his heart was beating out of control before, then he sure as hell wasn't sure what it was doing now.
Just say it, asshole, he thought to himself. Say it and get it over with. This is your ONLY fucking chance to do this. Then you can leave and forget about all this crap. But it was harder than he thought. It was hard back then when he was her boyfriend. It was hard when he left her and wanted to tell her how he really felt. And now she was demanding him what his excuse was and there was no way he was able to lie about that one. After a moment of silence washed over him, he looked on up to Saoirse and replied calmly. "Because I love you. Still do. Trying not to, but so far it's not working."
The fact that Saoirse loved Graham was not a secret. Nor had it been. She had told him, when they were together. It was just the fucking cherry on top that he didn't seem to remember. Really, that fit in just perfect. And the sting of that was enough to erase any meaning of what he was actually telling her. Saoirse bandaged herself back up and shook her head, gritting her teeth at the thought. "You love yourself and your damn fix more. Always have. Or you would remember me telling you that when we were together. And you wouldn't have left in the first damn place. Too late now, Graham. Go back to the bitch with the poker, hope she doesn't impale you, too."
If he hadn't been drunk off his ass back then, perhaps he could remember, but it was lost now. Graham fucked in that department and Saoirse was right, as always. Too late for anything now and Saoirse did a marvelous job at reminding him why he didn't need to bother with her or anything left in his human life. Rising to his feet, he flicked his hair out from his eyes while keeping his stare locked onto her. "I plan on it. At least she doesn't bitch me out for being true to myself." He began to head towards the door, propping it open and whistled at Kismet to follow, who was still fascinated with the lighting. We're leaving? Oh thank god. The two of you should NOT be locked up alone ever again. "Trust me, it won't happen." And once Kismet was out the door, so was Graham, not even bothering to wish Saoirse good-bye. It was easier this way for him and she made it clear enough that whatever feelings he had were worthless to her. There was no point in continuing to try. She would die out in his heart over time and seeing that he was on his way to pay Jezebelle a visit, he was going to have all the time in the world.
He was going back to her? Even knowing the bitch had nearly killed her? That hurt Saoirse more than anything else, but at the same time, she didn't know how she could have ever imagined it would go any other way. She followed after Graham, grabbing his arm roughly in the doorway before he could leave. She didn't really care if her grip was too hard anymore. "One more thing," she said. It was not a polite request. "The next time I see you, you will be my enemy. So don't come around here anymore." She released him with indifference she didn't really feel, and marched back over to the bar. It was either work or cry, and she refused to cry over him again.