Post by Moana Simisola on Dec 6, 2015 0:09:34 GMT -5
your time is now
your number has been called
To her, she was still struggling perhaps.
Freedom had it's own shackles and she knew that her will to become free of his chains was perhaps too obsessive. Like how many girls did you know would do anything to get free of someone that supposedly cared for them? The female just gently shifted her fingers, trying to work out the adrenaline and aggression to something other then those kind of thoughts. Her blue eyes watched the man, and she knew he was injured - he was a prideful one too. So was she, in some measures, but her pride was only to her work, not herself. She had been taught that way, and found often it let her slip away from the attention of others.
Did he just call me Miss Storm? she thought, momentarily distracted from her own churning mind. The glass was comfortable in her fingers, nice and cool. The girl couldn't decide if she was insulted, or appreciated the fact that he hadn't expected her to take him up on his offer. She had to show that she trusted the male, and that was a result of taking his offer. Because if she trusted him to send her a drink, then perhaps it'd be fine right? She still didn't know how to untangle the mess that was their bond. He had saved her, and to her that was the everlasting freedom she had sought. It had been cut short, but to him it was a mercy that he should not have done. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Although did he just nickname her?
It was kind of amusing, as her blue gaze followed him.
She knew she was walking a thin line. Men with wounded bodies - and wounded prides - tended to become vicious if they thought they were undermined. She wasn't an analyst, but if anyone couldn't tell that this man had pride, then they were fucking blind. But she was so used to hiding behind the pride of others, to being the shadow that made the light shine so bright it was painful to see. And yet, he would deny her that very instinct - it frustrated and elated her all at once - and she wasn't sure she could hold herself. Her fingers tightened around the glass, before leaving it as she had stepped with him.
But the male had ordered her to remain, and she wanted to snap back. And she managed to hold it in - although her eyes darkened, thunderstorm on the horizon - but just barely. Her attention was brought back as she heard the sound of something hitting the wall. Her gaze landed on the man - the proud and yet wounded man - trying to keep going despite his body's very signs. Her body shifted this way and that, and then she let out an explosive breath. Step by step, she got closer to him, knowing she was more then likely about to either simultaneously disobey him and piss him off, or end up trying to argue with him. Her freedom was a dangerous tightrope, but she couldn't care.
''Oi, I can't leave you like that.'' she said. Her voice was clear, and her hands placed themselves underneath him, and pulled. Surely, she could lift a person - she had lifted heavier things - but she could at least be his support. ''I'm not gonna tell you what to do, just gonna suggest you point me to where I can get you settled.'' she added. The girl knew that this might backfire later. But for now, she had to do what she thought was best, and that was getting this stubborn man some help either he liked it or not.
•Words; 0625
•Notes; just gotta get the mojo back and goin' right?
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