|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 20, 2009 1:43:07 GMT -5
"Come on, Maura honey," Andrua said, ignoring the tears coursing over her cheeks. "C'mon baby. You don't want to cry. I know you don't want you. You want to be happy, right? Happy and brave and...not crying," she said, breaking to swallow a sob. Because she was scared. She was really scared and unsure and anxious and she didn't know what was going to happen. And Benson wanted to be out there fighting and she...wanted to, too. But this was real and he could die and... Fuck. She couldn't handle that. She didn't want to have to deal with that. She couldn't live without him. But...but the end of this they might all be dead by the end of this. Even Maura and Oliver. Mo and Ollie... That got her crying worse. "Oh shit," she said softly. She rubbed at her face furiously. She hated this. She didn't want any of this. "Shit." She licked her lips. "Come on, Mo." She held the little girl against her shoulder, rocking her. "Oookay," she drawled out, sniffling, knowing she looked a wreck with red eyes and her hair all about and her make-up running down her face. She turned to Benson.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 20, 2009 13:15:05 GMT -5
By "bring it on," he meant "don't let her die, don't let her die, don't let her die." Because anyone was subject to death now, if not everyone. He felt his heart dissolve as he held the wailing boy to his chest, unsure of how to calm him. He wasn't good at this. He could deal with happy babies--not distressed ones. Tears were conceived in his eyes but he was adament about keeping them inside. Oliver trembled in his arms, and he brought him closer, his arms enveloping him completely. Benson kissed his blonde hairs, making sure he never budged from his place. "Go ahead, buddy. Cry it out." Because there was no sense in stopping him. "M'right here, I gotcha. Dad will be back to get you soon." Andrua didn't look like she was holding up any better, either. Eyes swerving over to meet hers, he didn't realize they'd locked gazes until he taken both girls up into his arms as well, her and Mo. "It's okay," he released, but whether it was to her, himself, or the air, he didn't know. "We're okay." For now. He had to get out. People were suffering; he couldn't stand here while he could do something. Andrua's profuse tears, skiing down her face, had put a strain on his decision, not wanting to leave her, but he knew that she couldn't be out there with him. He needed her alive. Even if he died, she needed to live. He would be done with himself if she died. "Dru," he sighed, still engulfing her in his embrace, "I gotta go out there now." You understand, right? Benson tried on a smirk for her. "In the words of John Tyler, love," he broke for a kiss, "'I am going now, perhaps it is for the best.'"
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 20, 2009 15:11:20 GMT -5
Could she believe him? How could she? How were they okay? They weren't, Not even close. Death was upon them it wasn't slowing down. She flashed-back to her dreams: the fire, the screams, the pain, the smoke. Fuck. This was what she had been predicting. The end of the world.
She sunk into his hold, needing it more than she wanted to admit. Between them, Maura and Ollie were kept secure, tears still coming steadily. They were saved some heartache though; Daddy came and took them, passing the couple a grateful look. And then Andrua and Benson were alone. She gave a soft cry and moved back against him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his collar.
"Dru." Andrua shook her head, burrowing closer to him. No, no, no. Because he was going to tell her that he was leaving her. She didn't want to hear that. "I gotta go out there now." She broke into deeper sobs then, hopelessness growing in her stomach like a vacuum. Her lungs convulsed and she gripped him tighter. She didn't hear his next words because the roar behind her ears had grown louder and her heartbeat was in her head. She was going to lose him. He was going to go out there and he wasn't going to come back.
"No," she finally vocalized, albeit watery and shakily. "No, please. You can't." She wanted to be strong; to go with him. Or be able to let him go. She... She wanted to wake up tomorrow next to him. She wanted to run with him until she couldn't feel herself anymore. She wanted... She wanted to die with him, but fifty, sixty years from now. She wanted to go to France, see Germany, play soccer in Rome. She wanted to do cartwheels in the meadows of Ireland, run her fingertips over the temples in Israel, open her arms to the air on the Great Wall. She wanted to be a mother.
She wanted to marry him.
She clung to him tighter. She didn't take certainties well. She liked the possibility of anything happening. She liked having the prerogative to change her mind. But with this, she was locked in. No wiggle room: she was dying. They all were. Benson too. But before...
She lifted her chin up a little, inhaling shakily. Tears caught the edges of her eyes and her lips trembled. "I want to be your wife," she told him absently, voice unsteady. One hand came up to stroke through his hair. She wanted...to be his before this was over. She wanted to make love to him one more time, feel him with her, before it all ended.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 20, 2009 21:09:46 GMT -5
Where in the hell had that come from. ((No pun intended!))
The shock wasn't inevitable--it was actually quite easy to see where her tears were coming from, where her protest were sprouting and what had caused them. As much as he wanted to help cease what was making the house tremble from floor to rafters, he wished there was chains around his wrists, keeping him flush against Andrua, and someone had melted the key to them. His throat shut itself when she let the words swim up and out.
Wife?
His mind suddenly made harmony with the cacophony that was the chaos around them. Or, perhaps, in actuality, he wasn't hearing anything at all. Her prior protests had prepared him for years of waiting, but now, amidst the apocolypse, she chose to pivot completely on her heels. Taken aback, he stared at her, face lacking emotion, eyes still bloodshot and swollen.
"Really?" he coughed up, breathless, hands conforming to the subtle curves of her rounded shoulders. It wasn't necessarily the best timing, but she...she was accepting. Accepting him, into her life. How would this work? They were going to die.
"Andrua..."
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 21, 2009 16:30:36 GMT -5
She nodded, pressing as close to him as she could and burying her face against his collar. She wanted do it before they died. Or at least be engaged; make it real. Because she was not going to die just Andrua Rhiann Shay. She didn't want to be just one being in her death. She wanted to be with him, as she had been in life. In death.
Because they were going to die. No way around it. She wanted to go with him. Pulling her face from his body, she rose on her toes to kiss him. She felt the salt of their tears mingle on their cheeks and took in a shuddering breath before pulling away. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to go out fighting, or making love to him.
She wanted his ring, either way, before it happened. She wanted to look down at her ringfinger and not see it empty.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 18:11:52 GMT -5
Suddenly everything around him seemed mundane; an inexpensive casualty that he didn't have any business paying attention to, though it was flying by. Her nod prepared him for his grave, where ever it was going to be during whatever he was doing, because he knew he wouldn't have time to ready himself. It would happen in an instant, and he wanted to be connected to her before that instant came to pass. The problem was the ring--it was upstairs in his bedroom, stashed away for when he thought he should ask again. Not like he carried it around with him on his person.
The wetness of her lashes caressed his eyelids as she pressed up for a kiss, which he returned with enthusiasm, but also fatigue. Realizing that they were going to die, and that they were doing this because they were going to die, made it all the more real. Before it had just been a thought--a futuristic inkling that was tucked away in the back of their heads, but now it was here: before them, with the ability to strike at any time.
Benson took in a thick, wet breath, clogged with tears. How could he be so close to being inseparable from her and be about to die? It wasn't fair...
"Love you, Andrua Shay," he mumbled into her neck, arms around her a helix, keeping them bound together.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 18:40:50 GMT -5
She sniffed, not wanting to cry any longer. "I love you too," she replied. She failed at a laugh and demanded, "So give me the ring, huh?" It was a desperate attempt to lighten the mood that she was sure wouldn't work. It was the end of the world. They were dying. But they were going out together. At least that could be among the other certainties.
The hand threaded through his hair moved to wipe at his cheeks. She took away his tears, not able to see him cry too. Christ, he was the stable one. Sure, she didn't usually cry, but she was the one who went into emotional tailspins and he was the one catching her wrists and bringing her back to level gravity. But she figured this would be the time for an exception to that rule. This could be the time that he could fall apart, at least a little bit, and hold onto her to keep himself upright instead of the other way around.
She pressed her body closer to him and took his lips into a searing kiss. She inhaled deep through her nose and tightened her arms over her shoulder. This could be their therapy, their cure. At least for now. This could be them dealing with their fate, accepting that soon they would be gone. This was them. This was them together, living every second left with each other.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 19:10:40 GMT -5
Jerking his head slightly, he answered her smile with his own, despite its sleepiness. "Got it upstairs," he reported, making it a point to teleport with extra dexterity and speed as he jumped to the room, grabbed the box from his nightstand, and jumped back, having it at the ready, as if he was an armed soldier, cocking his pistol, preparing to fire and make the shot. And he was aimed perfectly, his target in sight--all he had to do was shoot and score.
((DAMN. that was one artistic metaphor if i may toot my own horn! metaphor? simile? analogy? idfk, i can't keep them shits straight.))
It was the harmony pulled from cacophony: "I love you." It was nice to hear it sometimes. Just to know that someone cared, someone wanted to be with you, near you. Liked you--no, loved you--for who you were and wasn't bothered by faults 'cause, hey, you're all human (mutant?), and in fact, embraced them. And in this case, separation was torment.
Benson glided the ring onto her slender finger, marveling at it as it laid there, a mere symbol.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 19:43:17 GMT -5
He was gone and, it was stupid, but even for that brief second, she panicked internally. She knew he had teleported. She knew he was just upstairs. She knew he would be back before she could finish that thought. She knew he was fine and so was she. And she knew she was being stupid. But it didn't matter because she was suddenly alone. She was dying first, she decided. She couldn't even last a second without him.
She smiled, somehow genuinely, as he slid the ring on her finger. She chuckled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him softly, sweetly, lingeringly. Hand pressed to his cheek, she pulled back from the kiss, looking into his eyes. "I, Andrua," she whispered, feeling slightly embarrassed, "take you, Benson, to be my lawully wedding husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward..." She paused a moment, hoping for him to continue, pick up where had left off.
It wasn't legal, of course, or official, or whatever. But it would give her peace of mind and comfort. Bind them spiritually at least. And, for the time being, that was enough. If they made it through this (they wouldn't, but why not entertain the thought a moment), they could do it for real.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 20:02:31 GMT -5
She threw him a line, and bit, and she all but reeled him in at lightning speed. He found himself caught up in the vows, and although he'd never memorized wedding vows, nor did these make their "marriage" official or binding, they seemed to roll off his tongue as if he'd said them a hundred times over. And a hundred times again, pacing in the men's room, tie askew and hair mussed, waiting to see his bride for the first time, in the moments just before their real marriage. In any case, he said them, picking up where she left off.
"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health..." He knew what came after. He knew it was going to be soon. Till death. Death. Why did it seem at his fingertips now? With an abrupt air of seriousness, he took her hands a little more firmly. "I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."
All of them.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 23, 2009 20:10:15 GMT -5
Tears came to her eyes again. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. She stretched up again to kiss him. Giggling, she pointed out, "Hey, this turned out awesome. I didn't have to wear a dress after all." It was a joke and a bad one but she laughed anyway. Searching for anything to make this moment happier. It was happy, very happy, because she was joining with the man she loved and wanted to love forever.
But it wasn't because they were going to die. He skipped the "till death" part because they'd be dying. She liked that he did. She didn't want death to part them. It wouldn't, she would let it. People came back from the dead right? Like, Dean and Corona and, like, other people. Anything was possible in their world, it seemed, of mutants and humans, angels and demons and all the rest. So now. They weren't going to let death part them.
"For now and evermore," she added, twisting her hands in his to lace their fingers together. She pressed yet another kiss to his lips, matching her hips to his as well.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Dec 26, 2009 23:07:39 GMT -5
It should have bothered him how abrupt this was--how not a month or two ago she'd wholly rejected the very idea of marriage, and yet here she was today, insisting that she couldn't die without being married to him. Whatever caused the turnabout--the desperation, the panic, or the genuine desire--he didn't find himself caring in the slightest. Not to say her emotions and reasons didn't matter to him, but the very occurence of her having a change of heart in the first place was enough to blind him from any other possibilities.
Now how did she expect him to go out there and die? He couldn't stay in here and not defend his life; his existence; his planet, and the existence of others around him, but he couldn't leave her alone. And he couldn't let her die with him. The predicament had him caught between a rock and a hard place.
Chuckling, Benson pressed a kiss to her. "Lucky us. No tux, no dress. Sounds like the ideal wedding to me." Ideal...
Shit, how was he supposed to go through this?
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Dec 27, 2009 0:25:00 GMT -5
"Lucky us. No tux, no dress. Sounds like the ideal wedding to me."
She laughed lightly with him, shaking her head. Yeah, ideal. In the middle of the end of the world when they were on the verge of death. But...in a way it was. Because it was with Benson. And...since it was with Benson, it was more than ideal. It was perfect.
"Yeah, lucky us," she agreed softly, sweetly. Pressing her lips to his, she moved as close to him as possible. "I love you." Then she inhaled slowly and tipped her face into his neck. "We better find Colette; let her know we're going out there."
Because he was going out there to fight for his life, there was no way she wasn't going with him.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jan 8, 2010 19:40:38 GMT -5
There was no way he was going to let this all just happen. This was his life and the lives of people he loved and people he didn't know and people he would never know. He wasn't going to let it just go. He wasn't going to lie down and let this take his life. He wanted to live, to live with Andrua, and he was going to fight to get that.
She was still burrowed in his body when they made the mutual decision to go get Colette. He didn't know if that meant that they weren't going to leave just yet, or if they were both so scared and reluctant that they weren't going to go at all. Because it seemed as if neither of them were exactly eager to get out there to potentially never come back. Then again, nobody really wanted to enter Hell.
"Maybe we should just go," he altered her suggestion. "Save Colette the stress and worries. I'm sure she's got enough on her mind."
It was incredible how they--mutants, to be precise--were supposedly a higher group of the human species, but even they couldn't survive something like this. They were supposed to be the "supernatural," and yet here was heaven and hell fighting on Earth. That seemed way more surreal than a mutation in DNA. It was incredible how they'd survived this long as a species. Living almost in exile, in special schools and special communities, like test subjects in an experiment, concealed in a glass dome, a utopia. Only now were they being exposed to the truth of the world outside. The world that was both shocking to those observing the exhibit of the mutants, and those locked on the inside.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jan 8, 2010 20:32:42 GMT -5
"Maybe we should just go," he altered her suggestion. "Save Colette the stress and worries. I'm sure she's got enough on her mind."
She nodded; that was true. They could leave a note...or just leave. Just leave and get it over with. A particular line of Shakespeare sprung to her mind, from Henry V. Henry was rallying his men to head off to what was sure to be a battle of the ages. The Band of Brothers Battle, it had been dubbed, because of the rousing pep talk Shakespeare composed for the King. Too bad Shakes wasn't around now to scribble up a little something to motivate all of them. Because, looking around, all Andrua saw were tears and scared faces.
Pulling from Benson a little bit, she met his eyes. "First things first," she said. Laying a deep kiss to his lips, she put everything she had into it. Pressing her body close to his as she could get, exhaling lengthily, letting her eyes closed and just relishing in having him with her. She didn't pull away until she was good and ready, until the kiss had been raised to award-winning status.If they gave out awards for kisses, which she didn't think they did but someone should really get on that.
"Okay," she declared steadily. "Now I'm ready." She pulled from his embrace, keeping their hands latched together, and waited for him to make the first move toward the door.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jan 8, 2010 21:13:22 GMT -5
Everything was buzzing. Yet they were in a sealed compartment, in their own little world. Like sitting in a doctor's office, crowded, people coughing, puking, sniffling, cradling each other, staying by themselves. You're nervous, rubbing your hands together, wanting to help but not wanting to invade anyone's space. It smells. The clerk behind the desk taking rapid calls with simple pushes of buttons. "Biella Chateau, may I help you? Biella Chateau, hold, please. Biella Chateau, we're trying, ma'am. Biella Chateau, calm down, sir. Biella Chateau, what seems to be the problem? Biella Chateau, just a moment, please. Biella Chateau, we're doing the best we can. Biella Chateau, if one more person cries on my shoulder I might break down..."
He needed to be that shoulder. The steel shoulder. The one that didn't break. The one that Andrua could cry on.
Ready? Was she sure? Because hell, he wasn't. He nodded anyway, knowing that if he didn't take the chance now, he never would. "Me too," he lied, taking her hand; a step toward the door.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jan 8, 2010 21:51:25 GMT -5
This was slow-going. But she couldn't blame him. She was just as hesitant as he was. She wanted to do her part, of course. Because she couldn't very well just sit there and do nothing while the world fell down around them. It was still scary, though. Of course it was. They were facing HELL, literally. Not the easiest thing to do. But together...she thought she could. With him by her side.
Making the final decision, she knew she needed to be out there. With a little tug, she pushed over the ledge, past enemy's lines. Through the door and into the outside. It was like suddenly reentering the sound barrier. Everything was fire and smoke and explosions and screeches and cried and crashes. The sudden wave of everyone elses pain and suffering and fear nearly knocked her to her knees. She held onto Benson's hand tight, though and looked up to the sky.
Fire in the sky. Deep Purple struck into her mind: 'Smoke on the water... And fire in the sky...' She shook that from her head though and looked to Benson. Holy crap. Now that they were out here, she had no clue what to do. But when a slithering, snake-like --what Andrua could only assume was a-- demon, she knew. It was instinctual.
Summoning all her telekinesis, she sent the demon flying. It crashed into a nearby tree with sickening crunch, broken body sliding to the ground. Andrua was frozen a moment, processing what had happened. The adrenaline coursing through her veins told her that...that she had liked it. Whoa. That had been... awesome. She turned to Benson again.
At first her mouth was parted in shock and surprise. But eventually that faded away. A trying, fun grin took its place. "Let's get these fuckers back to Hell," she said cockily.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jan 9, 2010 13:18:12 GMT -5
"Let's get these fuckers back to Hell." Did they have that ability? Or would they just have to ward them off until some high power intervened? Though he didn't want to take any chances, he wasn't sure how to do this. He could perform under the massive pressure of a soccer match, but when it came to saving people's lives, including his fiancee's? Ben found himself at a dead end. Nothing felt ready to perform.
When the demon came flying at them, his first instinct was to make sure it didn't touch her. She reacted first, flinging it away with her telekinesis. His shoulders squared.
It was a soccer game. Dodge, weave, strike. Get past your opponents, make sure your teammates don't get hurt. Block them. Defend, attack. And beat the shit outa the other team.
Something came flying at eye-level. He didn't take into consideration what it was exactly. But it didn't hurt when he flipped into the air at his side, batting it away with his foot and sending it into the head of a demon, severing it.
Landing back on his feet, Benson sent his fists to his sides, bellowing, "Fuck yeah!"
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jan 9, 2010 14:41:08 GMT -5
She grinned. Trust Benson to turn it into soccer. Not a bad idea though... She copied his move, catching a lumbering demon dead-center in the chest. It gave a shout that could never been mistaken for anything human before crashing to the ground. Using her telekinesis, she launched a piece of metal debris at the demon, gutting it through the abdomen.
"Yew," she grimaced, nose wrinkling. Black gore spilled from the wound she had given the creature. She guessed it had to be blood, which was normal, but the color of it just made it so...sinister.
"Fuck yeah!" Andrua smiled, turning to Benson. He seemed to have caught her enthusiasm. Going down fighting. Dirty, sweaty, bloody, bruised, injured and together. You know, it didn't sound so bad really...
A demon caught her off guard, wiping the smile off her face as a taloned claw cut open her cheek. She swore under her breath before turning to take care of the demon at her side. She settled into fighting comfortable, ready to kick some serious ass and take some demon names.
[[I'm thinking we should end on a vague note. Like with just the two of them fighting? Unless you have another idea. ^ ^]]
|
|