Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 9, 2006 19:51:51 GMT -5
“Hey lark,” Cobalt smiled deviously towards the lanky blonde sitting not-so-innocently at the bar, short shirt barely falling onto her thighs. Garish lights from the dance floor blurred her features, her exact appearance unrecognizable, just how he preferred it. Those words were the beginning of the end, the rest of the pick-up lines and flirting unneeded for this particular memory. The details don’t matter at this point. But from Cobalt’s charm, wittiness, and understanding of alcoholic beverages, the young lady would’ve followed him off a cliff, getting her to his place was simple.
The morning arose, Cobalt pulled out of bed tiredly and began to redress calmly, mind heavy with thought over the girl still silently sleeping. He watched her from an old grayed chair in the corner of the small apartment until she woke up, groggily and serene like all the rest. But she wasn’t some nameless blonde, not this time. She was the governor’s daughter, and Cobalt was a part of a revolution. Put the pieces together and find that this was no Romeo and Juliet, but something entirely different.
“Hey baby, you’re up early. Come back to bed, I like to sleep in,” she crooned unknowingly. But she did know, oh yes, she sobered up real quick once Cobalt morphed into a cheetah and bared his white fangs. Those fangs, the bane of her soft, tanned neck; to be stained red with the blood of declaration. She knew, the governor would know, the president would know, and the whole world would know. They would know that the shifters would not yet be repressed, that they would not meekly file into obscurity, they wouldn’t just disappear. The government had a policy to rewrite, and violence was the only way to get their attention.
A once fun trick of twisting minds, con artist talents now put to good use in gaining important daughters. A past with nothing to lose or gain now put to good use in jeopardizing his life for a cause. Oh yes, Cobalt found a cause, this was where he belonged. But for all this camaraderie and excitement, defending his own race, Cobalt was not a good person.
Solo said nothing as he sauntered through the hallways, Ginger in toe. A little surprised at how much bigger she was in animal form. Stronger too probably; everyone was stronger than wiry little Solo. It was probably why he gave himself such a complex and high standards. He would rely on his bitter epigrams and egotistical aura in order to avoid physical confrontation, in which he was only good at being swift, reflexive, and agile. This didn’t just happen recently, however, unlike most of his present survival tactics. Being witty and pugnacious started long before any sort of cage was even a distant imaginative thought; back in the days of conning and leadership. But who remembers those days? Heh, who forgets.
They entered the large complex of identical doors, each with their own prescribed numbers. Up two flights of stairs, welcome to room number 219. Upon view of the familiar door Solo morphed back into his two-legged form and pulled a small silver key from the pocket of his jacket. He shoved it in dutifully, twisting the handle and going in to the room. Inside resembled a small one-roomed apartment with adjoining bathroom. Everything from the bed to the walls to the drawers was colored white, everything made up perfectly without a dot of dust to be had. Inside the drawers his customary clothes sat, all folded neatly and each type to its own drawer. The top sock drawer was saved for trinkets of sorts, and socks of course; but due to Solo’s irrational detestation of socks only two pairs sat. Pushed to the back was a slightly used pack of cigarettes and the wallet Solo had on him at the time of capture complete with ten bucks and a few faded pictures of old comrades perhaps now long dead, all male with no females to be remembered.
Closing the door behind them he locked it deftly before pulling off his jacket once again and throwing it languidly onto the bed; the black leather on the white sheets contrasting like an incongruous stain. But Solo; a neat freak? Not a totally ambiguous notion. However an organizational binge only happened occasionally each week if he became hopelessly bored or just in a “mood”. He patted the corner of the bed in a gesture for her to sit before disappearing through a small door into the bathroom to rummage around for the extra bandages and a sewing needle of sorts, some thread too. Perhaps that bottle of whisky he stole from the bar some weeks ago would do some good; act like a painkiller or whatnot. He rummaged around a tad for it, still in earshot.
Cobalt was not a good person, but perhaps Solo was.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 9, 2006 20:23:28 GMT -5
Ginger had shifted into her human form as soon as she had followed Solo's footsteps into the room. She looked around curiously, like a child looking at her new house she had moved into. She noted the tiny details, how the room seemed immaculate. She didn't move around the room much, only glancing at every little space her icy blue eyes could pick out. Her left arm was draped over her stomach, her right elbow propped on top of her left hand. The slender fingers of her right hand were curled and resting on her mouth lightly, clearly admiring the neatness of the room. Who knew that little ol' Solo would be so immaculate about his housing compared to his ego? Ginger barely suppressed a laugh at the thought as she took the seat at the corner of his bed while he disappeared into the bathroom.
Her hand moved to her knees, her icy orbs still looking around. "So... do you clean your room often physically? Or does this simulated thing do it for you?" she asked, not meaning to be offensive toward her question. She had never really thought about using one of the simulated rooms before, let alone trusted them. Ginger glanced down at her side, the cloth beginning to rub against her wound. It had dried mostly, causing a slight feeling to make her want to itch it. Oh how she detested dried blood. But she reached for it anyway, just placing her hand on it to stifle the itchy feeling. Ginger didn't want to risk opening it again.
Her thoughts then slid to why Solo had offered to help her. I thought he didn't like physical contact... she thought, glancing at the bathroom door where he was at. Surely he'd have to come into physical contact, especially when it came to sewing. Her eyes drifted down to the ground, betraying her nervousness. What if he began acting like he did at the club that time? He had gone jerky and his behavior was a little odd. But now that they were in a closed off room, without a large crowd, what could possibly happen? The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't know much about him. For all she knew, he could go berserk and murder her right there. Well... at least he'd be helping something. I mean.. of course Anya would hear and get pissed, but I wouldn't have to deal with this place... Ginger sighed, a melody popping into her head. She absently began to hum it softly, her eyes closed as she waited patiently for Solo to come back out.
[She's humming the melody to her theme song XP]
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 9, 2006 20:49:21 GMT -5
"I clean it myself," he called back over his shoulder, the items under his arm, finding the bottle and standing back up; kicking the drawer closed with his foot. What was she getting at? His mind did a double take. She was mocking him, surely. Seems Solo was most everything he wasn't expected to be. The thought amused him slightly, walking into the room. He looked over her briefly, glaring at her hand touching her side. She shouldn't be touching it, but Solo didn't say anything. It was no use, he would have at it soon anyways.
Coming around he set the items down on the ground, sitting down to his knees. Was she humming? That was interesting, he never could recall meeting anyone who ever hummed before. She was certainly an original, but hopefully trusted him enough for what he was about to do - or in fact, ask of her to do. Solo wasn't truely concerned with his touching factor at the moment. It was a mixture of his trust and solitude, keeping his mind on something else. Solo handed her the bottle of whiskey with a slight grimacing smirk, tearing open a package of cotton balls.
"Take a swig of that whenever you feel pain; it'll take care of you just fine," he informed her, but hesitated slightly before going on, uncapping the bottle of medical alcohol, "I'll need you to take your shirt off." he said simply and blatantly, with maybe even a slight wince, afraid of getting walloped over the head. He wasn't going to try anything - well, anything outright - but it would go a lot easier if he didn't have to worry about the shirt getting in his way. Besides, women were bras and things, right? It was like wearing a swimming suit. Only not.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 9, 2006 21:26:21 GMT -5
Ginger had stopped humming once she heard him speak the second time, her icy orbs opening to look ta him. He was already sitting beside her and she took the offered whiskey, glancing at the label briefly. Though when he told her that she need to discard her shirt, her face flared a dull red. She could feel the heat and knew it was there, visible. She swallowed lightly, glanced at him, but nodded with a quirk of her mouth. Setting the bottle down, she caught the hem of her shirt, but stopped, giving him a quick smile. "No touching or I will have to hurt you," she said, trying to make him feel better. He obviously didn't look comfortable and she hoped he wasn't doing it for just her sake. Hell, she could live with the wound for a bit before trying to fix it herself.
Quickly, before she decided that the help wasn't needed, she slipped the shirt over her head, revealing the black lace bra that hugged her chest comfortably and her flat, slender stomach. At least what wasn't covered with the cloth, which half covered in dry blood. She laid her shirt beside her, then worked on the knot of the cloth on her left side. In a matter of seconds, she had worked through it, slid it off, wincing as she did so, and tossed it to the floor so the sheets wouldn't be stained by any of the blood. Now that the cloth was gone,t he wound looked uglier than she had really thought. The horizontal line started from the bottom of her ribs, then arced upward a little as it reached her back.
Ginger immediately grabbed the bottle of whiskey, knowing this would be painful. She glanced at the alchohol that Solo held, a brow arching as she looked at his face. "I know what you're thinking. I'm reckless, right? Well... thats what I get for defending my own property. And I'm damn proud of it," she said, managing a small smile. To her, Solo must have summoned a lot of courage to do this. Well, I guess there's a first for everything... she thought. She then braced herself for the sharp pain that was going to come.
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 10, 2006 20:49:25 GMT -5
He caught her blushing, and found himself blushing in unison, a light pink hue coming to his cheeks. Sure, it was natural for her to blush, she was the one who had to take off her shirt, but Solo was a man. Real men don't blush. He ducked his head down, looking at the suppplies until his embaressment passed. He listened to her words with a teasing smirk; no touching = not a problem. However nothing could be promised, Solo did enjoy his tricks and this was a situation worthy of many tauntings. But he decided to go easy on the epigrams, maybe just a few to make her feel comfortable, but nothing volatile that he would normally pull out of his bag of tricks.
"Hey, I'm the one who should be worried - I in the presence of a seductress of your magnitude; handcuff me to the bed and leave me for dead, you would," he smiled deviously. Solo looked away as she removed her shirt, but couldn't help a quick, imperceptible glance. When she threw it to the ground he felt as though the coast was clear, turning his head casually in her direction to examine the wound to which she was removing the cloth from. But boy; Solo had such wandering eyes. She was such a beautiful girl, he couldn't help but gaze for a moment while she was busy. Once she had thrown the cloth away he averted his eyes, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to stifle away the hormones. He could control himself, hopefully.
"Thinking?" he snapped into reality, looking over her wound, "Oh yes, a reckless little biscuit you are; but next time I'd opt to run. Injuries should only be a formality of the cage; I'd save my health if I were you," he said hypocritically, "This'll sting," he warned before tracing along the bloody line of the wound with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It was quite a deep cut, but nothing to worry about, merely a flesh wound. Placing the cotton ball aside, the wound now clean, he fiddled with a sewing needle and string, trying to get an end through the eye.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 10, 2006 21:06:42 GMT -5
She stifled a laugh at his comments, but then tensed a little when he warned her, gave her the hint that he was going to apply the alchohol. Ginger's eyes snapped shut, her teeth gritting together as the sting raced through her body, but she didn't cry out. Never would she cry out to a simple cleaning of a wound. She let out a shaky sigh when it was finally over, but a slight sting shocked her body when she began to relax. Eventually, when she thought she could survive from that little atrocity, she opened her eyes and glanced down at her hands. They had been practially choking the neck of the whiskey bottle and she was rather glad that it didn't break. Slowly, Ginger uncapped the bottle, drinking about a fourth of the whiskey. Hell, it would have tasted better on different circumstances, but it did have a nice taste to it.
Ginger then stole a glance toward Solo, watching him working meticulously at the string and needle. "Run away?" she asked finally, her voice a little deep with pain, yet she was trying to make it as light as possible. "And let some old creepy man disgrace me? I'm a fighter, hon, not a runner. Why else do you think I volunteered to fight in the Cage?" She smirked at him. Solo seemed a totally different person at the moment, different than the Solo she had first met in the club. She wasn't sure if the change had been gradual after their first encounter, but she rather liked that it was a positive change.
Stifling another small laugh, she set the bottle on the ground and leaned over, snatching the string away with a small smile. "Y'know, if you do this-" she said, sticking the very end of the string in her mouth briefly, "-it might be easier." She then focused on the eye of the needle, then slowly maneuvered the end through. She grinned at him triumphantly, snatching the whiskey from the floor and straightening up. "I know my things when the time calls for it. My mother didn't make me take sewing class for nothing!"
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 10, 2006 21:33:43 GMT -5
He glanced up at her as she drank from the bottle, already in discomfort. Hopefully she wouldn't chug the whole thing before the real pain began. Stitched were not a fun thing, and from the looks of it, she would need a good many of them. He contemplated her words briefly; volunteered to fight in the cage? But why? What was she fighting for? Fighting for nothing, that was what. He assumed she had nothing to live for, no one to go back to, so why not go down swinging? It was a sad state of affairs, but despair neve graced Solo's features. He took the threaded needle back from her gingerly with a sight roll to the eyes. Women, such know-it-alls.
"Sewing class, eh?" he shook his head idly, trying to talk her through the pain as he skillfully started the needle through the top portion of flesh, "I grew up on a farm, way back when I was a kid. Sew my own patches on my jeans, helped Gina with the drapes and Frank with the injured cows. I wasn't much good at destracting them, so I had to be the vet. Came in handy later in life, and nowadays too," he spoke distantly, just rambling in a soothing tone while he pulled up on the string and started down once again. His eyes never left his job, she could deal with her pain however she liked without his concern.
"Howdcha get this one now, Charlie?" Cobalt sighed incredulously, prodding at the deep lesion across the wiry young man's arm. The freckle-faced kid liked his lips nervously, thinking over his options on excuses. He sat on a corner of a wooden crate along the back wall of the warehouse, Cobalt kneeling beside him much like Ginger and Solo now. But Cobalt's eyes were keen, intimidating, and full of acerbity. His patient timid and gaping for words. A slender eyebrow was raised, Cobalt waiting for the kid to get on with it as he prepared a needle and thread; threading the needle through the hole without so much as a lick. Yeah, he was good back then.
"Uma, I-I, I was just traveling the back allys, like I usually do, and this guy came outta nowhere and just knifed me from behind," was the excuse, but Cobalt was skeptical, jabbing the needle down and up quickly and precisely, without heed to the whimpers of the unlucky redhead boy. Back then Cobalt wasn't satisfied with lies. A lying man was a traitor, so he taught all his young recruits that the truth was the answer - and threatened he could spot a lie ten paces away. Which was true, Cobalt's interrigation skills used to be impeccable. You needed that when you took government officials hostage.
"Don't lie to me, you brat," Cobalt scathed, jabbing down on the neddle harder than necessary.
"I'm not lying!"
"Now you're calling me a liar? Lip-smacker, you give your self away so easily," Cobalt growed ferociously, smacking the kid upside the head, "Now, you give me a square answer or you can sew up your own damn wounds! I'm not your mother, you know. I'm your boss."
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 10, 2006 22:00:06 GMT -5
Ginger listened curiously, her eyes closed and her mind working to stay off of the needle and string threading through her side. She focused on Solo's words, his voice, as he told her a brief piece of his history. Her breathing stayed at a calm, steady rate, never jarring to the side once. A small smile curved her lips, her fingers twirling the bottle lightly between her knees. "So did you ever think about becoming a doctor or a veterinarian? I'm sure you'd come off very famous and you'd have enough money to take care of a lot of things," she said. But then again, not everyone wanted fame and money. She certainly didn't. Ginger just loved to write lyrics and sing, even play her guitar.
She then fell silent as her own mind went back to her childhood. She didn't have the best of years compared to her past few. Her father had been pretty much abusive, especially when he was drunk. Ginger had always hid; either on the stairs or in her room, she always heard her parents screaming and yelling, things breaking and being thrown. She hated him for being the bastard that he was. No matter how hard her and her mother tried, he would never have given up his alcohol and smokes. When Ginger had been eight, her father died of lung cancer and a tumor in his brain. The bastard deserved it... she spat ruefully in her mind, hand gripping the bottle. She then took a small drink, trying to focus her mind again before she could burst out into tears.
Ginger let out a small sigh, shook the bad memories out of her mind until it was only her mother. Her, Anya, and Solo. The only people who she had given her trust to. "I think if you met my mother, you may have grown attached to her... Not many knew her, but I guess it didn't help that she never got out often. She would always be sitting down in her little rocking chair, sewing something or reading, listening to soft music while I laid on the floor and played with the few toys that she was able to get me. We were never the money type family, but I never argued. I didn't wish for anything but her, even on Christmas." She spoke in a quiet voice, not really paying attention to anything anymore. Her thoughts had drowned her out of the real world and into the past where she occasionally stayed for a few minutes.
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 11, 2006 20:31:32 GMT -5
"Oh, I'm a tad too famous for my own good on the flip-side of the world, to tell you the truth," Solo answered distractedly after listening to her first words. Solo? A doctor or vet? That was quite a hillarious thought. A shifter doing good for the sake of the human public. He didn't think so, but was slightly pleased at the optimism Ginger had for himself. But Solo was famous in a different sort of way, actually "Cobalt" was, thus a partial reason for the name change. No self respecting shifter wouldn't have heard of the immensely popular, handsome, and homicidally bave Cobalt Dartagnian. Or perhaps, in realistic terms, the crazy revolutionist who made the news every other week.
He continued to stitch up the wound, but his mind kept to his work rather than what she was talking about next. He didn't enjoy it much when people spoke of their childhood's. They were always so sad and pitiful, especially for a shifter's. He could barely stand his own, letting another person cry on his shoulder was just unbearable. Solo merely nodded and let out a few cold "Mmmhmms" in classic therapist agreement and tugged up on the string, fingers remembering how to do this quickly as the dust was cleared from his mind. Ginger had her problems, and he had his. Solo felt some sympathy for the girl, however, since he probably would've taken a liking to anybody's mother. Poor Ging... homesick little thing. leaked from his thoughts, shaking it away with a toss of his head to shoo the bangs from his vision.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 11, 2006 22:31:13 GMT -5
She took another drink from the bottle, fighting the urge to twitch every time he tugged on the tender areas. Ginger let out a small sigh, tilting her head to the left some. The bottle was already half gone, nearing to three quarters. Her mind was so far away from the pain that it had a better, addictive taste, like most of the drinks that she got at the club. That was a bad habit she had gotten from her father--addictive drinking. Not only that, but her bad temper, which wasn't caused entirely on the rumor of her hair. She ran her left hand through her hair, trying to shake her father out of her mind. It just didn't do her any good to dwell on the past, especially on that fool.
Ginger looked down at Solo, smiled lightly at the dedication he was putting into a simple wound. No one had ever offered to help and tried to be as dedicated to that. Yet she didn't let everyone help her at all. She turned her slightly hazy eyes away from Solo to her hands, tilting her head again. "Y'know, as a kid I had always wanted to be a teacher. Just to be normal like the other kids in school, I set a goal in my life. Of course, my dad said I was wasting my time because I'd never fit in with my leopard part, but my mom always encouraged it. But.. I guess it didn't turn out that way," she said in a slightly drowsy voice. She laughed lightly, remembering the conversation with her mother.
"Momma, I want to be a teacher," she said simply, smiling brightly from ear to ear. The eight-year-old's hands were folded neatly in front of her on the kitchen table, waiting patiently for her pancakes. Oh how she loved pancakes, no matter how old she got. Her mother gave her a warm smile when she glanced over her shoulder.
"A teacher? What grade would you teach, honey?" she asked in a light, feathery voice. "Personally, I picture you teaching kindergartners. You look like the type who'd love children." Ginger made a childish face, her brows furrowing and her nose wrinkling up. Her mother laughed, returning her attention to the pancakes and flipping two on a plate.
"I don't like kids much. They always tease me. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean... is it my hair, Momma? Tera has the same hair color, but hers is shorter..." Ginger's smile faded slowly as she spoke, her fingers twisting together. Maybe, no matter how hard she tried to hide the fact that her mother was a shifter and she probably had it to, they could see right through her. "Do you think they know...?
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 11, 2006 22:53:08 GMT -5
"A teacher, eh?" Solo scoffed in disbelief, "Heh, a teacher? You would be the last person I would've suspected to want to be a teacher. I could just immagine you prowling around the kids and hitting them with rulers each time they snickered. I can't stand teachers. However I was too busy being selflessly arrogant to care about my future. Almost done, m'love," Cobalt rambled on amiably, calculating the small amount of stitches left. He wondered if maybe he should take that bottle away from her, but decided not to. His large green eyes looked up from his work to study her a minute, wondering how much longer these trips down memory lane would last. Not to mention she was seeming a bit... Eh, tipsy. Personally whenever Solo was drunk he became extremely agressive, which is why he tried to stick to one or two beers at a time. But Ginger had almost downed most of his stash and seemed to be well on her way.
"You okay up there?" he inquired skeptically, accidently rubbing an itch from his forehead and smearing a bit of her blood that was on his fingers on his face. He hadn't noticed it, but instictively his fingers went back to there work. Maybe he could encourage her to give up his bottle before she was past the point of no return - unless it was already too late. At least she wasn't whining. He abhorred whining. So at least the alcohol wasn't so bad in that aspect. But still... Solo had the sinking feeling she was about to give him her life's story or pass out. Or both. Or even neither, which could've been even worse.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 11, 2006 23:09:09 GMT -5
Ginger laughed, almost dropping the bottle of whiskey when trying not to disturb his meticulous work. "Yeah, I probably would if I had ever taken that up. Especially right now. Maybe I'm not really as much of a kid person as my mother believed me to be. I'd probably even give them.. I don't know, something. Maybe wine coolers..." A small smirk appeared on her face before she laughed again, the thought of kids getting hangovers from the wine coolers and going home all groggy. She knew it could happen, especially with their teeny-tiny bodies. Ginger shook her head, her hand still over her face.
"I'm perfectly fine up here, thank you. Probably better than getting shit from that psycho perverted old man on the street and from that damn bar tender..." she said, though the laugh was still in her voice. She took another drink, her hand going back to rest on her leg. Abruptly, she jerked the bottle away, her hand going to her mouth to prevent the whiskey from leaving her mouth> After swallowing it, she looked down at Solo with a scowl on her face. "You are so lucky that didn't go on your carpet. Or that my hand just connected with your head. That hurt..." But she already had a small smile on her face and was already getting another drink from the whiskey bottle. Maybe one or two more and the bottle would be empty. Oh grand.
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 11, 2006 23:25:19 GMT -5
Solo looked up at her dumbfoundedly. What was she going on about now? He was so confused. Shaking his head in an expression of "Whatever you say, sweet-cheeks," he went back around to his work, sewing up the last couple stitches and tying it off. Now for the fun part. He stood up and stretched, tossing the needle into a small trash can. Walking out his long, stilt-like legs a second, he came back around, picking up a large cotton pad and the white bandage. Oh goody, now for the fun part of it. He stood a few paces off and nodded as a gesture for her to stand as well.
"Save me some, will ya? Come here; stand in front of me with your arms up, sweet-cheeks," he itterated impatiently, how she was going to comply with this, he didn't know. The objective was to wrap the bandages around the stomach and wound. He had in mind to force her to spend the night here, since she was in absolutely no condition to go traipsing around outside with such "psycho perverted old men" just pinning to take advantage of her in this condition. Besides, Solo felt her hangover before she even did. He knew from experience just how nice a nearby, sanitary bathroom was after an alcoholic binge.
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Post by Anya™ on Feb 11, 2006 23:46:56 GMT -5
She listened obidiently, though she wasn't all to graceful. Ginger staggered to her feet, trying not to laugh and lose her balance along with the whiskey. "Save you some? Hell, you gave it to me. That was your big mistake there," she said with a large grin on her face. "I'm pretty greedy when it comes to certain things, and this whiskey is very good, so I'm not sure I'm willing to share." She eventually made in front of him and Ginger just looked up at him with her hazy icy orbs, almost as if she was studying him. She tapped her chin with a finger lightly, head tilted to the side.
"You know, you're right. You definitely don't look like doctor material..." she mused. Then she smiled, stifling a laugh. "At least not a public doctor. Maybe the kind that runs out into the middle of danger to help a fallen soldier or something. You have that... daring and adventurous type aura thing." Ginger looked at the bottle, then set it down quickly before lifting her arms so he could finish up.
[lol my posts are like.. crappy tonight. XP]
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Cobalt
Junior Member
^ lol, not Solo, but I luffles Keira anywho.
Posts: 56
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Post by Cobalt on Feb 12, 2006 0:06:14 GMT -5
"Damnit, Jack, we needed that truck here two hours ago!" Cobalt called from the middle of the street towards a eye-rolling brown haired man and a stricken young kid in the next seat. They drove onwards down the road in the direction of a looming warehouse. It was an old city disrict from way back, abandoned presumably. It was not so for the shifters. A side street away a large commotion could be heard, people running about, animals roaring or shrieking. It was a riot, of course, Cobalt out a block or so to clear his head a moment. The sky above hung low with ominous clouds, dark, stormy clouds. His jade green eyes studied them frivolously, relaxing while his counterparts were out yelling their lungs out for his cause. The police sirens didn't bother Cobalt, specifically instructing his men to leave when the cops got angry. They were probably starting to shuffle off, just another protest. But Cobalt flinched spasmatically as a sudden hush came over the street; and then enough gunfire as if a whole battle was going on. He turned around to see a massacre, animals fleeing for their lives. Cobalt's heart pounded in his throat, he could've ran away. That's what most people expected of him to do. But he didn't. That day Cobalt was a hero.
"You're drunk. I'm the egotistical, arrogant, save-himself, runaway Solo; remember?" Solo grinned clandestinely, placing the cotton pad on the puffy wound before starting to go around and around and around her stomach with the bandage. His fingers worked quickly without fail, being sure to work quicky so he wouldn't have to linger so close to her half naked torso. Yes, one must admit he was a little scared, scared of himself mostly. How long could he put up with this sort of cruel torment? Who knew!
(OOC: I'm dying too, so it's aight!)
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