Who: Beth & Paul. What: Conversations before the full moon. When: December 12th. Where: Carnival; Las Cruces, New Mexico. Rating: Low. Status: Complete.
“I’m off then,” Beth said as she bid her replacement at the med tent farewell. Her shift had been a short one today. It wasn’t uncommon, her shift lasting only a few hours, though there was always a level of disappointment when she had to leave before the carnival’s close. She liked her work as the daytime medic; it made her feel like she was giving something back and, most importantly, kept her busy. It was a good way to keep her mind from wandering to distressing thoughts. It didn’t always work. Some days the thoughts forced their way to the forefront, no matter how much she tried to bury them.
Today was one of those days. It was the day of the full moon; the day that she would once again be consumed by the beast that clawed away inside her.
Beth moved along the back of the attractions to avoid the various carnival goers as she made her way toward the opposite end of the grounds. Her hand flexed in and out of a fist as she attempted to stave off her growing anxiety. The minutes were ticking by; it wouldn’t be long before she lost control.
It didn’t take long for her to reach her destination. Beth stood a short distance from the guard station, watching. Paul was there. She had hoped he would be. He was the only one she could go to during this time; the only one who understood why she was so anxious; the only one she could confide in.
She approached after several moments of hesitation. "Paul, hi," she greeted with a small, awkward smile. “It’s been a while.” They hadn’t spoken much since she cut their outing short earlier in the month, not for any particular reason, their paths just didn’t really cross.
He hated the onset of the full moon.
Paul felt on edge; his mood was different than usual though by now those seasoned enough to know him were privy to the swing of his temper at this time of the month. He didn’t mean those short bursts of emotion, the anger, the sharp sentences or cutting answers given. But his skin was nearly crawling as if he were surging with an energy that no one else experienced. For the most part his peers and fellow employees avoided him. He wasn’t vocal about what he was, but when you took that walk of shame, needed that time normally spent helping away from your post, people tended to understand.
Jaw would set. The irritation was present in those chiseled features. Every second that ticked by was like agony. But he wasn’t alone in this experience. He loathed that fact and embraced it as it calmed a deep part of him to know he didn’t have to feel as if he were the only one. The only mindless killer.
Leaning against a railing as Beth finally approached from where she had been observing him, Paul would turn to behold her. “Hey,” he greeted, doing his best not to growl at her. He made himself smile though the usual light wasn’t there. “I thought you were going to stand over there all day.” By now he knew what she smelled like; since their time together strolling down Main Street he had picked up on a lot of who he perceived Beth to be.
Finally the old smile began to ease back across his lips and his stance became more casual.
“Oh. Yeah. Heh.” Beth lowered her gaze and let out an embarrassed chuckle. He had noticed her standing there watching him. But of course he did. The senses were strong – it was easy to pick out a certain person from a crowd if you were looking for them, in theory anyway. She wasn't skilled in utilizing those extra senses and thus didn't have the same ease others had using these abilities to pinpoint certain things.
She noticed his stance begin to relax, which in turn encouraged her to, or as much as her twitching and nerves addled body would allow her to. So very little; it was something though. “I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to impose, is all,” she explained further. Beth knew well the increased aggressiveness that came with the growing onset of the full moon and wanted to be sure not to approach if he was agitated. If he had been, it could have very well triggered her own aggressiveness.
Focus. He had something to focus on other than waiting for something to happen out of the blue. Bella dropping by would’ve been fine, Beth was a godsend. Already the fringes of his mind were wrought with the tendrils of the curse. It wouldn’t be long now. Something inside him stirred around, the pit of his stomach felt hollow, but at least he was confident in the idea that he couldn’t hurt Beth. Much.
Could he?
“You? Impose?” That grin evolved into something a touch more playful. “I don’t think you could ever impose on anyone.” While he wasn’t up on the history of the curse, of the logistics, he could recall hearing somewhere that the wolf was the worst of those bearing the curse.
The corners of her lips turned up into a more natural smile. “Ha. I don’t know about that,” she replied with a chuckle, scratching at the back of her neck sheepishly. There was none of the gentleness usually present in the gesture; dark red lines formed as she raked her nails across the sensitive skin. It was the anxiety and a little bit of something else. A desire to cause pain forcibly turned upon her for the sake of others.
“I was wondering if you’d like to get something to eat?” She had recently eaten while manning the med tent yet craved more. It was the curse causing that insatiable hunger. When the moon finally rose, that hunger would increase tenfold and all control would be completely lost. “I smelled beef,” she added, doing all she could not to salivate at the memory.
He watched her nails dig into skin, the way they left crimson lines in pale flesh. With a frown, Paul stepped forward. Bypassing her inquiry he would reach out and for her, collecting those anxious digits if only to give them something to do; he preferred she tear at him rather than herself. “Trust me,” Paul would murmur, blue eyes steady.
They caused enough pain already. It was a risk having him here if the rumors of what he was capable of were true. He couldn’t put that on her undue. There wasn’t any doubt she was stronger than she looked but no one needed to endure the things he had already.
Finally he began to address her question, stomach taking the first opportunity to grumble in spite of his having eaten at breakfast. “Sure. Show me where.”
He took her hand and her nails instinctively dug into his flesh, not aware the victim of her discreet attack had changed. Green eyes widened and hand instantly released him from its hold as soon as she realized what was happening. Her eyes moved to their joined hands, spying the deep indents that her nails had caused. Her gaze quickly met his. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, horror and concern evident in her expression. “I didn’t mean to...”
Paul hadn’t even noticed the digging sensation, too focused on Beth and the mixture of things he could feel wafting from her skin. That edgy feeling was back; his jaw tightened for a second or two as he assessed the situation but he was able to calm down once more. He swore never to hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it and Beth clearly didn’t deserve any of this.
“For what?” He inquired, playing that action off as if it were nothing at all. The skin freed itself from the blemishes, minor as they were. His eyes never left, though her gaze had fallen. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for anything.” It was a promise.
Hands would turn, lift slowly so she could see the unbroken skin. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
She didn’t have to apologize for anything… it was a nice sentiment but not a realistic one. Perhaps what had just happened didn’t need one in his eyes, but It was only a matter of time before she did something that truly demanded an apology. She was wrestling with a monster within herself; it was inevitable.
Beth took his lifted hand into her own, making sure for herself that there were no injuries. Thankfully, he was correct; there wasn’t anything to worry about in regards to injury. Her thumb passed over where her nails had dug in. “Do… you still want to go eat?” She asked hesitantly.
As she lifted his hand Paul only watched. The limb ascended with her guidance and bore no hesitation. He didn’t mind the bit of pain now and then; since he realized the curse was there his tolerance for pain had increased. Once in a while a bit of pain anchored him back into the realm of before. Before, before. Before the monster.
If Beth had to apologize for anything, what did that mean for someone like Paul? He knew he had taken an innocent life. That night haunted him. Maybe she had, too, but the hollowness wasn’t there in her eyes yet. Or maybe it was only a matter of time.
He didn’t pull his hand away, simply left it within hers to be done with as she pleased. “I do,” he began softly, smile charming. “As long as you still want to.”
"I do," Beth answered, gaze lifting to discover him smiling. She couldn't help smiling in return albeit smaller than the one he gave her. She was glad to see that smile; it helped ease her troubled mind if only for a short time, for which she was grateful.
She sniffed, catching the smell of beef wafting through the air. It was coming from the kitchens. "This way." She guided him from the guard station, her hand loosely holding onto his. The hold continued to loosened as they walked until only fingers were touching, threatening to lose contact all together.
Nothing could stave off the effects of the curse. It was only a matter of time until it grabbed hold of both of them, claws deep and sharp. Anything he could do to ease her weight, that burden, he would even if it meant pretending for a while. He was glad she still wanted to find the source of that tantalizing smell. An adventure was just what they needed to keep their minds off of the inevitable.
Hand in hers, Paul twisted and turned to follow after. As they approached the aroma it grew and his mouth began to water.
Little by little his grasp on hers dwindled. But then he made the purposeful gesture of keeping their hands together by tightening hold on hers.
The renewed pressure around her hand prompted Beth to glance down at their joined hands. A smile slowly crept to her lips. He wanted to continue holding her hand. There had been a chance for him to break the contact but he chose not to; he chose to continue the touch. She looked to Paul with warm eyes and squeezed his hand without a word. The look was brief, a few seconds before her gaze quickly moved away, but it had delivered its message: she was happy he was with her, hand in hers.
She pushed onward toward the source of the tantalizing smell and the two ended up by the Cookhouse to discover pots of beef stew simmering on the stove. She licked her lips. “Smells good.” She looked to Paul. “Think we can convince someone to give us taste?”
How could anyone want to break free from such a connection? It was no secret that Paul got around with a few women. He didn’t really hide it or keep the fact to himself, though it wasn’t something he really advertised either. Few he chased behind the gates that were employed, many more who were residents of whatever city they’d stopped in. But Beth was different somehow and it had his attention.
Following along, Paul suspected they were heading for the mess tent. Sure enough, blue eyes would catch sight of the familiar place. As they approached the smells became more enticing, his mouth was watering and the animal beneath the surface began to claw hungrily at the edges of his psyche.
“So do you,” he murmured. And then he offered Beth a grin. “You leave that to me.” Already he was scanning the area for easy prey, any woman who might be subject to his charm and wiles.
Letting go of Beth’s hand, Paul went for the kill. Before too long he was coming back with two bowls of steaming beef stew. “For my lady,” he expressed, offering Beth the one with more ladled into it that had been meant for him.
Beth had little time to react to his murmured words before Paul was gone. The compliment caused her cheeks to redden and, make no mistake, it was a compliment. It may have seemed like a weird one to anyone that might overhear but when you lived with the heightened senses of a predator pleasant smells were treasures. They were also highly attractive. Beth found Paul’s scent to be quite pleasant.
She tried not to pay attention while he wooed the woman - she could feel the pang of sadness and, perhaps, a bit of jealousy? Watching them - instead focusing her mind on the tasty morsels his actions would be bringing back.
Paul returned and she offered him a pleased smile as she greedily took the bowl. “Thank you,” she managed to say before diving her spoon into the stew and fishing out a bit of beef. She let out a sigh of content as she chewed, savoring the juicy piece of meat. Restraint disappeared and she went after the stew with a sort of reckless abandon seen by men that had been denied food too long.
“So good,” she breathed as she finished off the rest of the broth. She unconsciously licked at her lips, tasting the small bit of broth that had dribbled down her chin.
He was glad the prize sought was well received. Before he began to eat he would grasp Beth gently by an elbow and lead her over to a vacant table, hoping she got the picture without him having to spell it out for her. He would sit regardless as trying to handle a hot bowl of stew wasn’t the most ideal way to consume it. Sure he had a good tolerance for pain but burns? No thanks.
“You’re welcome. Glad you’re enjoying it.” Honestly he was. He found some amusement in watching her go at the bowl as if the beef inside would simply vanish upon the spoon diving past the broth. But then again he felt as hungry as she looked to be so wearing the stew seemed appropriate in that context.
He ate with the same vigor that she did; bowl would be void of beef before too long and Paul found himself uncaring about the broth or the vegetation swimming around in the vessel. When he was finished the bowl would be set aside and pushed away.
Beth looked at the two bowls discarded on the table, paying little mind to the empty one but taking an extra moment to access the contents of the other. Her lips fell into a disappointed frown. No beef, how unfortunate. After a moment of staring longingly into the broth, she finally became more aware of her surroundings, or rather, herself. Her face turned red from embarrassment. Quickly, she dug her hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping away the excess broth that had settled there.
“Oh, um, sorry,” she apologized with an awkward chuckle, her eyes falling to the table. Her face was burning. “That was, um…,” she began, a bit flustered. Finally, she seemed to get her thoughts together enough to save a little face. “What did you think? Of the stew.”
Nobody could fault her for the look of ravenous hunger she expressed. Especially not Paul. With a grin he pushed the bowl with the remaining broth and vegetables in it toward her delicately, a silent gesture for her to help herself. The hunger would stay regardless of how much was consumed, that was the downside.
“For what?” He inquired, curious. Ladies had to eat, too. And honestly Paul preferred the ones who could enjoy themselves while dining. He’d taken a few prissy eaters out from time to time, women who were more concerned with who was watching them eat than the actual food or the moment. He was glad to know Beth wasn’t one of those. “For being a woman who can appreciate a good meal?”
A shoulder would shrug in response to her question. “My mother’s is better, but it’s definitely not bad. You?”
The sound of the bowl moving over table caught her attention. She looked at Paul, then the bowl before tentatively sliding it in front of her. She stirred the broth, letting the spoon bump into the vegetables floating around. She was determined to eat probably this time; it was easier now with the promise of beef no longer there.
“Maybe appreciated it a little too much,” she replied sheepishly. Beth was relieved that he didn’t seem disgusted by her actions; if he had been she didn’t know what she would have done. She carefully scooped a spoonful a stew into her mouth. She let it sit in her mouth for a second or two before swallowing. “Not too bad,” she agreed. “My grandmother’s was better but I might be partial.” Food cooked by family with love was always tastier.
Her attention moved to the sky. It would be getting dark in not too long. She let out a soft sigh. “I will be happy when the days get longer. I don’t like darkness coming so soon.”
Many men would have judged her for the way she ate; women seemed to be held to a more proper standard in various ways it was a challenge at times cracking through that outer shell to discover the woman beneath. He was thankful that Beth seemed willing to be herself (as much as anyone really could be in this circumstance).
“My grandmother cooked,” Paul replied, nodding, “but I wasn’t around much to know about her before the passed on.” He had been a baby when his granny went to be with the Lord, as his mother called it. “Mom took the place in the kitchen.”
He never knew the grandparents on his father’s side.
As Beth’s gaze lifted, his own would follow suit. He studied those skies for a moment or two and then Paul would find her gaze again. “Don’t like you chase the stars?” He inquired, knowing full well why she preferred the light. “I bet you’re prettier in the moonlight, anyway.”
“Ma liked to cook but she was always so busy with work. Grandmama did most of the cooking when I was growing up. I eventually took over those duties when I got a bit older.” She ate a spoonful of soup. “Much to my family’s dismay,” she added with a chuckle. Beth wasn’t a bad cook, not really, but it was no Grandmama Barnes’ cooking. “It was always a special treat when Grandmama came by to cook.” She smiled, reminiscing.
Her cheeks turned pink. “I like the stars,” she answered, holding his gaze for a moment before returning her gaze to the sky. If she stared into those blue eyes long enough she’d be bright red in no time. “But I haven’t chased them in a long while.” Chasing the stars meant chasing dreams and Beth had given up on those.
The comment about her in the moonlight brought a shy smile to her lips. “I don’t know about that.” She didn’t find herself particularly pretty in any light - moon or sun. “I think the moonlight would look good on you.” In fact, she knew it did.
Her tale about her foray into food preparation coaxed a genuine smile from him. Cooking was a talent he wasn’t particularly good at though it was because he never really tried to do it. Being here meant he didn’t have to cook; reliant on the meals prepared by the kitchen he let nourishment fall by the wayside unless it was one of those rare moments (like today) where nothing would satisfy that deep, primal hunger.
“Maybe you should try chasing them once in a while. You might find something you’ve been missing.”
The comment posed about moonlight elicited a laugh. Paul would shrug a shoulder casually, “Maybe we would both look better in it together.”
“Perhaps. Maybe someday.”
Her heart fluttered. “Maybe we would,” she replied softly. It sounded romantic, the two of them together in the moonlight, but she was quick to tell herself it likely wasn’t meant to be interpreted that way. Someone like him, handsome and charming, wouldn’t have those kind of feelings toward a girl like her. Still, it was nice to dream; a star to chase she’d never catch.
Beth scooped a couple more spoonfuls of stew into her mouth, consuming the last of the vegetables that Paul had left behind. She stared down at the broth, contemplating if she wanted to bother drinking it, ultimately deciding to leave it. The liquid didn’t interest her anymore; she wanted something solid.
“I suppose we should think about leaving soon.” Her fingers flexed in and out of a fist. The completion of her meal and the comment on the sky brought back that nervous energy. “I don’t really want to,” she admitted. “It’s nice sitting here with you.” Her gaze dropped, suddenly shy. “I want to stay longer.”
As she ate he would take a look around. Sounds, scents, the people. Everything familiar had taken on a sheen of some kind, a darker shroud. Noises had an annoying undertone akin to a buzzing, even voices had a ring to them apt to set someone like him on edge.
Gaze would fall upon her again. Paul smiled and nodded, “Let’s stay longer. See how long we can go without changing.” The last part was breathed softly though he knew she could hear it clearly. “You want to? Maybe find somewhere quiet to sit and look at the sky for a while?”
Hand would lift and extend out to her to take if she wanted. “Come on. I’ll make sure we get to where we need to go, safely.”
Beth lifted her gaze, eyes widening. Seeing how long they could go without changing? Was he serious? She searched his face for any sign that he may be joking but found none. Her eyes dropped as she wrestled with conflicting emotions. Testing to see how long they could stave off the change… that was dangerous. Very dangerous. What if she couldn’t hold it back long enough? What if she hurt someone, hurt Paul? There were so many things that could go wrong.
Yet despite all these worries, Beth found herself drawn to the idea. She hated the crates; they were dark and confined. Each time she stepped into one, knowing she would be trapped for hours, her anxiety would spike. Her heart would race and she could barely breathe; she felt like she would die. Waiting, instead, in a quiet place while looking at the sky? That was bliss in comparison. It was selfish but if he could get them to where they needed to go safely like he said, why not try it? At least once. Once was all she wanted.
“Safely.” She nodded, gently placing her hand in his. “You promise?”
“I would never break a promise to you,” Paul assured Beth, taking her hand gently into his own. That was one of those things he took personally, how his reputation and good name held up on the lips of the people around. A tarnished name closed too many doors and while he knew his family would be spared any trouble he got into he decided to leave them wholly out of anything that might arise. His name was all he had left, anyway.
It would at least be a memory to reflect upon when their time in the box did inevitably come. It wouldn’t be for a while yet though he could feel it drawing nearer.
With that, Paul slipped from the seat, pulled Beth gently to her feet, and then began to head in a roundabout way that would eventually take them to those little safe places for their monsters.
But a detour was to be had; Paul put an arm around Beth gently, guiding her into the desert beyond the premise of the Carnival. Up above, the sky was beginning to turn. Colors painted would give way to stars and eventually the moon.
A flat rock was spotted and he lead her over to the surface. “Perfect.” He could feel the energy radiating from the boxes nearby though they weren’t in view from where they stood. Near enough to get to at the last possible second without too much effort.
He would never break a promise.
She followed without question, looking around curiously as they weaved through tents and people. While the path wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, Beth was uncertain where they were headed. The path had many offshoots leading to all manner of places; what place they would ultimately arrive at was a mystery though not for long. The sight of the crates made her grow worried and her steps slowed. Were they going to the boxes? Had Paul changed it mind? Was the suggestion of staying out longer a cruel joke after all?
She went to pull away from him but stopped when his arm wrapped itself around her and guided her away from the dreadful crates. She let out a held breath. They weren’t going to the cages after all, just merely near them. It made sense; the closer they were to the crates the less time it would take to get to them once the change began. Until then, they could enjoy freedom and the sunset.
“How beautiful,” she breathed as she settled down onto the rock, eyes focused on the splash of bold colors across the sky. “Desert sunsets are so bold and bright, aren’t they?”
“They are,” he agreed. Those blue eyes would glance over in her direction for a moment, a subtle flick to the side she was sitting on, before they returned to the sky. She was beautiful too but he refrained from telling her lest she get all adorable and red, he didn’t want to scare her away. Slow and patient was the name of the game here.
“It’s like they don’t care what happens. Or who is watching.”
He hadn’t yet let go of her, grasp merely loosened. It was her turn to either pull away or to slide closer to strengthen the hold.
“I’m confident in saying they probably don’t care,” she said with an amused smile. Mother Nature rarely ever did. The days progressed, the weather changed, all without a single care to the many creatures affected by her whims.
“What it must be like to be so carefree.”
Beth glanced over at their hands, suddenly aware they were still joined. Her gaze returned to the sky. Amazingly her cheeks retained their natural color; it was her quickened heartbeat that betrayed her feelings. There was a moment of silent consideration before she slid a little closer and gripped his hand tighter.
“Christmas is coming soon. Are you excited?”
“That’s the best part,” he replied. A soft laugh escaped. “I would love to be more like that.” The admission was honest, he was being as open with Beth as he could without laying himself down. Carefree. He didn’t know what that was like anymore. Paul would’ve given anything to go back to the life of before. Anything.
As she shifted closer he made no move to pull away. With Beth tucked close, Paul squeezed her fingers and turned to peer up at the sky. “Of course,” he breathed, “aren’t you?”
Already her present was burning a hole in his pocket but it was worth it. She would find out before the holiday itself what it was he had planned but he wouldn’t give anything away. “What did you ask Santa for?”
Beth nodded. “I am,” she returned. Christmas was her favorite time of year; it was hard for her not to be at least a little bit excited in spite of her more sullen feelings. This would be the first of many years without her family, a reality that was painful to accept, but she was trying her best not to dwell on it.
There was a small shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it, honestly,” she confessed. Her mind hadn’t really been on presents, not for herself anyway. For several days, she had been hard at work crafting gifts for some of the other carnival residents, Paul included. “If I had to ask for something… I suppose I’d ask for him to make sure my family is happy.”
Christmas was something to look forward to, even with the negative connotation of being alone that it might bring. Any hope, in his opinion, was better than none at all. Besides they had each other. Those are the Carnival may or may not have been blood related but the bottom line was that all of them were family.
He was glad to know she still anticipated the arrival of the holiday. Festivities could be a good source of distraction from underlying woes.
Paul would smile admirably at her selflessness. “I don’t think he could deny you that.” Even without her there he was sure her family would find some happiness in the holiday.
“I would hope he wouldn’t. It’d be quite mean if he did.” She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly. Not that Santa had any real say over whether her family was happy or not considering he didn’t actually exist. But if he did exist, she hoped he would be kind enough to make her wish come true.
“And what about you?” She asked, glancing over at him briefly. “What did you ask Santa for this year?”
Paul’s expression evened out a touch as the question was posed back toward himself. “Another mess free year ahead,” he confessed. A year without casualties, accidents, maulings. Maybe a year with only upswing - but then again everything that went up had to come crashing back down.
Beneath the surface of his skin he could feel the intense itching of the beast to be freed. The moon would be out soon, it was as if he could feel every moment it drew closer.
“But I’d settle for better relationships.”
“I think we all would like that. I know I would.” There was so much potential for things to go wrong when cursed with the beast. She managed, somehow, to keep it at bay but how long would that be the case? How long until she went through the change at the new moon? At a random drop of a hat? How long until it consumed her completely?
Her free hand started clawing at her leg discreetly. A bit of physical pain to help keep the anxiety, and beast, at bay. It would only help for so long as the moon grew closer.
“Better relationships?” Beth was genuinely surprised. While he tended to get around with women - a fact he didn’t necessarily advertise but was noticed - he seemed to have decent relations with the carnival residents. Was he referring to relationships in general or…?
Paul’s head would twist slightly, the bones in his neck popping loudly. He felt tense suddenly. Doing his best to relax he leaned a little closer to Beth once he’d settled down again. “Sort of a sad thing to want.” It was, but it was the truth.
Eyes would slip down to look at her hand as it clawed her own leg, but his gaze would draw up and once more settle on her. His fingers would squeeze at her own in silent assurance. He was there for her and he would be as long as she would have him.
“Yeah,” he replied, keeping the response short. Whatever context she pictured was probably accurate. Paul had friends, very few close ones, but keeping anyone in range beyond friendship… well, he didn’t like to think about it. Such a loss would be devastating.
The loud popping elicited a look of concern. He was tense but then so was she. The gentle squeeze of her fingers helped relax her slightly but it wouldn’t last long. Not with the moon so close.
“They’ll come to you,” she assured, keeping her own response short. Paul was a good and charming man; whatever it was that would meet his criteria for a better relationship was sure to come his way.
Beth closed her eyes, expression showing distress, squeezing his hand tightly. “I hate those boxes,” she confessed quietly. It caused so much fear, the darkness and enclosed walls, she practically had to be shoved in at times.
“Thanks.” He felt oddly assured by her words, comforted in that sliver of hope. Detecting deceit came easily when you could hear the influx of tone and the way someone’s heart beat but Beth was being genuine. It was a rare thing these days, he felt like.
Upon mention of the boxes his eyes would lift and move in the direction they were. “Me too,” came the reply. He hated them a lot but in comparison to what would happen if he didn’t comply he found that he didn’t mind them so much. “But I’ll be there beside you.”
Her eyes opened, turning her gaze to him. He hated the boxes too. There was something comforting about that. She so often felt guilt about her aversion to the boxes; she was being selfish, focusing on her own discomfort instead of the good those boxes did. To know that those feelings, the hatred of those boxes, weren’t just exclusively hers helped ease that guilt, if only just a little.
She managed a small smile and squeezed his hand again. “Thank you.” Her eyes moved toward the direction of the boxes waiting for them. “We should probably go…” She didn’t want this to end but it was time. If she waited any longer, her clawing might find another target.
Enduring the confinement was a necessity; he didn’t want to entertain any alternative options. It was either kill someone or bear the brunt of a magic box for a few hours. That was an easy choice to make in his opinion. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
A nod would come. It was more than time to go to the boxes. Paul kept hold of Beth’s hand has he stood, pulling her gently to her feet. Gently, patiently, he would guide her through the trees and toward the area where those large containers awaited. As blue eyes fixed upon the open doors his jaw would set but he drew them both closer still.
Only when he reached the cusp of the box did he pause in stride. Paul looked over a Beth, pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her skin. “I’m here for you.” With that, he let her go and then turned to head into the box, already beginning to toe out of his boots and strip away the jacket and layers of clothing.
Her hands moved to her chest, one clasping the other he had just kissed as she watched him leave. She looked to the other box that stood next to the one he was headed towards. Her teeth ground at her bottom lip as she stepped forward and proceeded to discard her clothing. Blood touched her tongue; her body shuddered. It was almost free. She glanced over at the entrance to Paul’s box one final time before retreating into her own.