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cass
Retired Staff

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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

bang {bang} python & arx Jun 28, 2013 10:27:33 GMT -5

Post by cass on Jun 28, 2013 10:27:33 GMT -5

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When the moon fell in love with the sun
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
When the sun found the moon
She was drinking tea in a garden

He was giddy. He could feel his happiness, his excitement, his joy racing through his body and he could a still remember every single detail of what it felt like to kiss Hopper. The image was vivid in his mind, stuck –imprinted onto his brain and when he closed his eyes it was the first thing he saw. And at night when he went to sleep it was the first thing he felt. And he loved this; he loved this overpowering feeling of ecstasy. It was amazing and it simply defeated and destroyed any other emotions. Hell in his entire life he never ever believed he would ever feel this way. Tiberius Haze had never ever felt such excitement. It was that excitement and that excitement alone that was pushing him forwards right now. He had attempted this same notion many times before, but he would always back down and leave before he even got to his door. Magnus Nox was a scary, intimidating man that let no one get away with anything. That was even the basics. You weren’t allowed to pay one cent less than what you owed him. Hell everyone in his debt had heard the screams and please of those he had killed. He was ruthless and driven and would not stop at anything to get his money.

Tiberius was not afraid to admit that getting into business with him had been a mistake. It sure had. It had been one of the worst ideas in his life. He knew the kind of deals that went down when you singed a contract with Magnus Nox. He cheated you and if you did not repay him you lost your life. But for desperate people like Tiberius it was all they had. He offered you money a home and well to anyone living on the streets it was a perfect solution. Most of the people indebted to him were thieves, druggies and altogether completely untrustworthy. They were not good people. They were the low of the low, but that was the good about them. They knew how to get money and they wanted to live, so when pay day was coming up they got the money and Magnus did not give a flying fuck in the way you got the money. All he cared about is if he got it or not. Hell he treated his daughter like shit, she got all the privileges and all the goods that came with being the daughter of a wealthy man, but she did not get all the good from being part of a powerful family.

Tiberius had slipped into Magnus’s grasp a few years ago and he was struggling to pay off his long standing debt. Everyone had their way of earning money and Tiberius had come from selling drugs. He created his own and sold them to anyone he could get his hands on and when he could not meet his quota that way he stole. He did not have a guilty conscious; he was merely fighting for his own survival, just like everyone else in Panem. It was all a game and so to win and to survive you had to play it. Even if that meant playing dirty. Hopper had, however, slowed him down. Hopper had when they were living together and before he had shot himself, had persuaded Tiberius to quit the drug selling business. It had been hard, and old habits die hard. He had never really quit, because he had also never told Hopper about the way it all worked. How he was in debt to Magnus and how if he didn’t pay up Magnus would happily kill him off. So in all honesty he probably left out the most important details. Ooops.

Shrugging he pushed open the door. Tiberius entered Magnus’s house, it was a big house, perhaps the biggest house in all of district three. Quite a few people lived in it, those bound to Magnus. Tiberius used to live there, but he stepped out and away shifting to his own little place. The very place where Hopper now was, the very place where he had kissed him and told him he loved him. That was the place he wanted to be right now, not here, not heading up to see Magnus and get himself out of his deal. He had asked Hopper to borrow a little bit of money, using a sheepish smile and downcast eyes to pretend that he was simply paying off as small favour that was done for him. Hopper had been reluctant, but with some kissing and persuasive words he had agreed. Tiberius had felt oddly guilty has he had walked out of the house, he hadn’t as much lied, but more like twisted the truth to make it seem a lot less frightening. He did not want Hopper to worry. He was going to be fine, all he had to do was give Magnus the money he owed for the month and tell him that he was no longer going to be a part of his sick little game. Simple, right?

Swallowing he took the first few steps. He was nervous, tugging the brown leather jacket tighter arou8nd him he quickened his pace. Magnus wouldn’t hurt him; he hadn’t broken any rules. He was feeling foolish by the time he got to Magnus’s door. Why should he be scared of Magnus? He was tough, he was big and strong and he could handle a man like Magnus. Yeah, he could do it. Racing a hand through his hair he lifted his shoulders, trying to give himself a look of confidence, and not a look of submission. He could so do this. Just give him the money and leave, give him the money and go home, go back to Hopper and be happy. All he had to do was get out of this stupid contract.

It was eerily silent as Tiberius reached forwards and knocked on the door. A deep grunt ensured and Tiberius tugged the door open. Stepping in he left the door open, part of him expectant of the need for a quick exit. ”Mr Nox, we need to talk.” He spoke coolly, unwilling to let any emotions play into this conversation. Magnus looked up from his table, raising an eyebrow he said, ”do we?” Tiberius clenched his jaw, willing himself not to bite back at the condescending tone. ”The deals over, Magnus, I’m leaving. I have this month’s payment. After you get this I’m gone.” Tiberius stated.

"That would be violating our contract, Mr. Haze. Are you forgetting the fact that I own you until you pay every cent specified in the contract you signed?" Tiberius nodded, looking directly at Magnus. "I know that. I just don't give a flying fuck." Smirking Tiberius stepped back and towards the door. "Well then, I would apologize for what I am about to do but I am no liar." A flicker of uncertainty catches Tiberius and he halts, his eyes glued to Magnus. Magnus reaches down, Tiberius freezes. Suddenly there is a flash of metal, years of living on the streets and pure instinct forced Tiberius to dive to the side just as the gun was shot. A loud bang echoed in the room, Tiberius hit the ground hard, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth as a sudden burst of pain spread through his left arm.

He looked down at it and all he saw was an ever growing patch of red. Slowly he looked up and at the man with the gun aimed right at him. Well Fuck. This was not supposed to happen.

In the middle of summer
When the moon found the sun
He looked like he was barely hanging on
But her eyes saved his life
In the middle of summer (summer)

[/blockquote][/justify][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

Last Edit: Jun 28, 2013 10:27:52 GMT -5 by cass

Python
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Pronouns: She/Her
last seen May 21, 2024 20:46:58 GMT -5

bang {bang} python & arx Jul 30, 2013 23:12:46 GMT -5

Post by Python on Jul 30, 2013 23:12:46 GMT -5

When Valencia scrawled an “X” across the box designating the previous day she felt her insides churn. She did not completely understand why she was tormenting herself by marking her calendar to count the days since Drace Vandel - the only boy she had ever held feelings for, and the only one who would accept her as a human being rather than her father’s puppet - had been plucked from their district in the Reaping. It was agonizing to think about but impossible to ignore. His name was constantly whispered among gossipers in the district, who wondered if he would redeem himself after his terrible ordeal in the Bloodbath, unlike Cleo, who had discovered her fate early in the massacre. People hoped that he would be the next Klaus Gorarvich - that maybe despite the lack of careers their district could still be counted as a worthy contender with unforgettable tributes. But the hope had already begun to fade, she could feel it. They doubted his abilities just as they had doubted Cleo’s. There were powerful opponents in the arena, three of which he happened to be allied with. What hope was there for a boy so out of his league?

There is always hope, and I will never stop hoping for you, Drace. Not until the day his cannon blast reached her speakers, which was something she dreaded each time she returned to her sofa and glued her eyes to the screen.

She knew that her blonde hair was disheveled and that her make-up was smeared, but these were the least of her problems. Her maids and servants were currently attempting to pry her away from the television and usher her to her bedroom to pamper herself up, lest her father walk in and see her distraught condition over a boy he merely thought of as a street rat. Her father was perhaps the only one who did not know of their romantic relationship, and she wanted to keep it that way. It was for this reason only that she agreed to distance herself from the television and fix herself up. When she returned feeling somewhat refreshed after days of neglect she paused on at the top of the staircase upon spotting Dexter in the living room, now occupying a couch she had hoped would remained empty. She swallowed a nervous lump in her throat and slowly descended, hoping to avoid awkward glances or exchanges. The last time they had spoken to one another - one of the only times, actually - there had been a misunderstanding. She had tried to mend it all with an offering, just a small token of acknowledgement of his sinister work, but it had been in vain. She knew despite his hard exterior that he was not a malevolent criminal, and acted only upon his desire to honor her father’s contract and keep his life secure. He tried to tell her otherwise, but she could identify who the real demons were. Her father was one of them, after all.

With a polite nod she sat silently on the couch, leaving a reasonable amount of space between them, and focused on the dirt-streaked faces of fighting tributes. At the moment Drace was temporarily safe and ~~limping~~ walking with his allies to explore new territory. How he had managed to snag a slot on the career alliance was beyond her. He seemed friendly enough with Xanthus; perhaps they had formed a strong friendship before the Games? It certainly appeared so, they were quite comfortable with one another, and despite her initial bad reaction to Xanthus’ suspicious behavior she felt like she could trust him with Drace’s life, especially after his display of rage when Drace had been tossed into the air by a Combustiphant. Opal she wasn’t so sure of; she seemed sweet, and her smile was brighter than sunshine. But she could also be vicious, like a poisonous flower playing the role of a pretty, innocent thing until someone touched her venomous petals. Then there was Locust, the popular career from district four. She was the last person Valencia could trust, and the last person she wanted Drace to be associating with (except maybe that Motel character. He was also frightening).

As she folded her hands in her lap and tried to focus on reading Drace’s expressions before the cameras panned away she became faintly aware of Tiberius entering the house and walking into her father’s office. She thought nothing of it (he was probably making a payment for this months dues) and leaned back into the couch to make herself smaller and avoid his threatening gaze. The thought of Tiberius’ apparent hatred for her almost vanished from her mind completely when a thunderous boom shattered her peace. She immediately gasped and leapt from her seat in alarm. She knew that sound. She knew it, she knew what caused it and she wished she didn’t. It was no cannon from the Games; it was gunfire. A single shot, echoing at lightning speed across the corridor leading to her father’s office where Tiberius was. Her eyes frantically darted to Dexter, who seemed as alarmed as she was. That’s when she felt the ice creep into her chest. There were only two possibilities in this scenario: either Tiberius wielded the gun, or her father did. She wasn’t sure which she was more terrified of, but the shock cemented her feet to the floor as she stared in horror at the closed door, waiting for imminent chaos with her hands clutched to her pounding chest. Her mind told her to flee, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move, she couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe. She could only react with silent panic as her brain imagined the horrors that lurked within her father's office. She was a helpless insect waiting for the boot to crush her bones. Only one thought crossed her mind.

Somebody is dead.[/justify][/blockquote]

Last Edit: Jul 30, 2013 23:19:56 GMT -5 by Python

arx
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen May 22, 2024 14:52:22 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

bang {bang} python & arx Aug 1, 2013 0:32:52 GMT -5

Post by arx on Aug 1, 2013 0:32:52 GMT -5

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we all bleed red, all taste rain,
all fall down, lose our way,
we all say words we regret,
we all cry tears, we all bleed red.

I stare at the ceiling, shuffling a deck of cards I found under Drace's bed idly in my hands. Having my own room feels a bit odd really. I've shared a room my whole life - my brother, my cell mates, fellow homeless people, Drace - and I don't think that I will ever grow used to the idea that it's all my own. And it will be all my own forever really because he isn't coming home. Sure he is smart, one of the smartest people I know, but there are sometimes brawn is just better than brains. And I know that's the truth, otherwise I wouldn't be making any money at all. I know it's stupid of me to have given up hope so quickly like that, but I'd rather not cling to the idea that I may just see him again. Because it's impossible. I glance over at his bed, disheveled sheets everywhere and various things shoved beneath it and I sigh before looking back to the spot in the ceiling I have been staring at every second of every day for about two weeks now. My best friend is gone and he ain't ever coming back - simple as that. They took him away and gift wrapped him for other brute Careers to eat alive and I just let it happen. Fuck. I squeeze the cards in my hand and let them slip through my fingers, shooting them in the air and across the room and watching them float to the ground around me in a flurry of various numbers, four shapes, and two colors. How he played a game with so many possibilities, so many ways to screw up, I have no clue, but watching the cards fall around me makes me think that maybe it wasn't so bad. Perhaps not as bad as making innocent people cry in fear? A card falls face down on my shoulder, and when I twirl it between my fingers to look at it I find myself staring at the queen of diamonds. I sigh then. Queen of Diamonds. Drace is in love with one of those. And by the way she has been sitting in front of the television screen for days, obviously she loves him too.

I shove the card into the pocket of my sweatpants and roll over onto my stomach, letting my arm dangle off the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing the floor. Love? The idea that Little Miss Bitch Princess can love anyone or anything besides herself was completely foreign to me not so long ago. In fact, a large portion of my mind still believes that she is just crying over him for attention and pretending to care about him for some underlying benefit that I can't decipher. But then the memory of the diamond necklace, sparkling and dangling in front of my face, flashes in my mind. I had held a knife to her throat, threatened to take her life, stolen all of her jewels, ~~though I did give them back~~ and she gave me one of the necklaces back? As if she cared if I could pay her father or not? That night I was hit by the realization that despite my own beliefs, she is not her father and never has been. But not only is she just a normal human being with a regular functioning conscience, she is a girl who seems to have nothing evil or rude or cruel or snide or even sarcastic in her mind. So she is either stupid beyond comprehension or the kindest most self-righteous person in all of Panem. Drace had always believed it was the latter. Figures. He is always right and I am always wrong and that's how it has always been. The battle between brains and brawn will never truly be over I fear. Drace could probably beat me with his mind even when he is just a corpse beneath 6 feet of dirt.

I punch the ground before rolling out of bed, stretching and running a hand through my hair before making my way to the closet and rummaging through various shirts before finding one that looks more comfortable than the rest and pulling it over my head. But as I walk past the mirror on my way to the door, I find that I look like a complete mess despite my recent haircut and my crisp clean shirt. Fuck you Drace, making me look like shit. But then of course the question crosses my mind - Who are you trying to impress Dex? - and I push in through the door, exiting the room just in time to see Valencia disappear behind hers, make-up running down her cheeks. I lean back against my closed door, wondering if maybe - just maybe - I can survive without eating or socializing or doing anything but staring at a ceiling all day so that I can just disappear back into my room. But then my stomach grumbles and I am pushing off the door and walking down the elaborate staircase into the kitchen in search of something to make the grumbling go away. I rummage through the cupboards and refrigerator, shoving random food items into my mouth as I go, trying to ignore how everything I eat has a singular bland taste. Has Valencia eaten since the Reaping? Something tells me she hasn't. And I almost consider making a sandwich for her before I realize how ridiculous I am being. Her fucking servants can make her eat, it's not my job to make sure she does. But even so, I find myself pulling out two mugs and pouring coffee (Yes, coffee in the afternoon, don't judge) into both of them and carrying them to the living room where I pick a spot at the end of the couch, placing the mugs on the table in front of me. ~~She probably doesn't even like coffee, Ripred Dex you idiot.~~

The TV screen flashes and buzzes with updates as the Arena comes to life with a bit of action. I see Drace a few times, but honestly, I'm not even watching. I haven't watched a single bit of the Games this whole time. Sure I've heard around about how that Sullivan girl died in the Bloodbath and how Drace managed to snag a spot amongst the Career pack, but otherwise I haven't paid any attention. I'd rather not watch my best friend get slaughtered on live television, but thanks for the offer. I don't understand how Valencia does this. As far as I know she hasn't down anything but watch since the Reaping and here I am, not being able to stand watching even a few minutes of it. What is it? Does she really want to watch someone she cares about so much die? Does she really want to hear that BOOM! and watch the light fade from his eyes and blood pool beneath him? I'm sure she thinks she does, but I know that she doesn't. She has never watch someone she loves die right in front of her, I'm sure of it. She's much too perfect to have something like death taint her perfect, brilliant life like that. Fuck. I'm doing it again. Being a dick to someone who has never wronged me - ever. In fact, she helped me. Not only did she offer me money in sense, she also hasn't told a single person about that night in the alley. Or at least I assume she hasn't considering I don't have a bullet in my head. I clench my jaw as Drace flashes on the screen again and avert my eyes, just imagining him wanting me to be nice to her. She's not all bad, she's not her father, she's really nice when you get to know her - Yeah, yeah ... He'll probably be proving me wrong even as a corpse buried six feet in the dirt. I try to ignore the assessment that the commentators are giving of each tribute and find myself looking everywhere around the room - the windows, the ceiling, my coffee, her coffee, the floor, my hands, every inch of wall - anywhere but the television screen. But when my eyes land on the doorway, a cleaned up Valencia standing within it, my eyes glue themselves to the screen.

She enters without saying anything, and I don't either, the silence stretching between us just as it always has. In a way it was like that night with the necklace had never happened at all. And I guess maybe it's best to have it that way. Go back to the normal cold shoulder and icy glares that I have always given her. Is it bad that I don't want to go back to that? I hate Magnus. It's a real, justifiable hatred that is called for. I hate Valencia. But it's a false sort of hatred, something I have to force myself into, something the cannot be justified and something that frankly has become tiring. My eyes fall from the television to the two steaming cups of coffee sitting on the table, I reach out and take a sip from mine, the hot water bitter and burning my throat the whole way down. But when I look down into the my distorted and black reflection in the foam, I know that I don't have it in my heart to hate someone who misses Drace as much as I do. I set down my coffee and push the other one further down the table, not really worrying if she takes it or not. Silence is okay sometimes. Even if a bit awkward. But instead of looking back at the TV like I had planned, I find myself looking at her instead. Make-up fixed, hair brushed and still damp looking from her shower, her eyes (Green. I've never bothered to notice before.) glued to the screen and every fiber of her being seeming to be attached to not just the TV but the face on the TV as well. Her hands are folded in her lap, the perfect lady-like thing to do I suppose, and her legs ... why have I never noticed how damn good-looking she was before? I can see now why Drace was always looking at her ... I mean damn! Before I realize it, I have run my eyes all up and down her body and been staring at her for probably a whole minute with some weird smirk thing on my face. I blink and quickly turn away, rubbing my face and holy shit did I just-

But my thoughts are cut off abruptly at the sound of a gunshot. Not a cannon on the TV or the distant crack of one outside but one that is close and near and oh so familiar as I think of Royce and the gunshot that rang through the house that day. I'm on my feet so fast that I nearly fall over the table in front of me and when Tiberius comes running around the corner, blood dripping from his arm, my heart leaps into my throat and I don't even have time to utter a single word before Magnus comes around the corner, a gun in his hand and a sort of rage that only happens with completely deranged people. That's when I notice he isn't even aiming in Tiberius' direction, but in Valencia's. I jump forward then, shoving her out of the way as another shot rings through the house and a fiery pain bursts through my shoulder.

sometimes we’re strong, sometimes we’re weak;
sometimes we’re hurt, it cuts deep;
we live this life breath to breath;
we’re all the same

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

bang {bang} python & arx Aug 9, 2013 20:07:16 GMT -5

Post by cass on Aug 9, 2013 20:07:16 GMT -5

When the moon fell in love with the sun
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
When the sun found the moon
She was drinking tea in a garden

Tiberius Haze had never ever been shot before. Hell, he was the one that had often done the shooting. If the roles had been reversed Magnus would be lying dead on the floor right now, blood spilling across his chest. Luckily for Tiberius Magnus was both a horrid shooter as well as a horrid gun handler. No one had even gotten close enough to stab him or cut him, let alone stab him. So this whole area was way out of his expertise. Pain. That was the kind of thing he wasn’t comfortable with. As big and as tough as he was he was awful when it came to pain. It wasn’t his fault he was so good at his job that he never got hit. That showed the kind of skill he had, and that was good, right? It wasn’t good that other dealers got shot and killed, or whipped when they were caught by the police keepers. Remaining unnoticed and invisible was how you survived. And that meant you didn’t deal with pain, you didn’t deal with stab wounds, cuts and bashings. Tiberius tensed, trying his best to control the stabbing pain that raced through his body. He’d been in worse situations, right? No, he actually hadn’t, this would have to rate itself as number one. He would not, however, succumb to this pain, or Magnus; he was strong enough to overcome this little issue.

Pain, was however the first and the only thought to cross his mind in the space of the time that passed between him sitting on the floor and scrambling to his feet. He had been so incredibly stupid, so so so very stupid to even think that Magnus would not pull something on him. Magnus was a cunning sly man that did anything to get what he wanted and when you no longer held any use to him he got rid of you. How had Tiberius not even attempted to plan for the possibility that maybe, just maybe Magnus would try to kill him. Quickly he moved out of the way of Magnus and that stupid gun he was swinging around. He pressed himself up against the side of a wall, a door to his left, a hallway to his right. The hallway, where Magnus was, standing there with his gun, readying himself to shoot Tiberius again. And this time Tiberius did not think he would miss. Breathing deeply, he bit back a groan of pain. Tiberius’ hand was clutching the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. But it was getting through his fingers, and within moments he had small trials of blood running down his arm. Hopper was going to kill him if Magnus did not. He hadn’t even told Hopper he was going to end this thing. He’d told Hopper he was just going out. What the hell would Hopper say if he turned up bleeding? What would Hopper think or do if Tiberius didn’t come back?

The though startled Tiberius and he bit his lip, sucking in a deep breath of air. He had to make it out of this situation. He knew how this would affect Hopper, he knew – he had seen what Hopper was capable of in the way of suicidal thoughts. And some part of Tiberius knew that if he didn’t make it home from this confrontation Hopper would not be alive for very much longer. The boy would spiral into his old ways and within a week he would be dead from a drug overdose or something – anything that could end his life. It was those thoughts that made him grit his teeth and get over the pain. Carefully he edged forwards, allowing only a slither of his head to appear around the corner. Magnus was looking in the other direction, his face turned away, and without hesitating Tiberius ran, jumping out and running away, towards the stairs and the door that would lead him to another room. It had been too long since he had been in this house that he couldn’t quite remember how to get anywhere. Basically jumping down the stairs he bolted left, he knew Magnus was if anything less active and held far less physical capabilities then Tiberius, so the stairs would gain him a good few seconds.

Without thinking he burst through the door that lead to the lounge room. Startled by the sudden appearance of others he halted, breathing ragged, and his hand automatically moving to the wound in his arm, where blood continued to flow freely. It was an odd sight, two people he had not wanted to run into. But thankfully neither had been Shadow, which would have been the worst possible situation he could have ever imagined. Not only had he not seen his ex-partner in three years, but the two had left on a horrible note, with Tiberius walking away with no explanation, note and not even a single word of a goodbye. He had simply turned his back on him and left. However, he was still not pleased to be seeing Valencia, it wasn’t that he didn’t like her, the feeling was mutual, but with her dad running around with a gun anything could happen, the girl was scared of everything she had no hope to survive this if Magnus popped by, deciding to shoot everyone in sight. He turned his cold eyes onto Dexter, a look of shock cross his face as Dexter yelled, before leaping to the side. Tiberius took the hint that Magnus was coming and dived to the left. Another horribly loud BANG echoed through the room.

Tiberius took no more than a few seconds to look up and see Dexter with a spread patch of red on his shoulder. His eyes flickered back to Magnus, who had lost all focus on his first target. Rage covered the man’s face and it was clear that the gun was pointed directly at his daughter. Tiberius jumped to his feet. Alarm prickling his entire body, ”Magnus, no!” He yelled, but it was too late, with another ear piercing bang the gun was fired. Tiberius leapt forwards, knowing fully well that Valencia had been shot. There was no way in hell the tiny, fragile girl could have dodged that. With a snarl he threw a punch, his fist landed on Magnus’ face and without hesitating he lunged for the gun in Magnus’ hands.

In the middle of summer
When the moon found the sun
He looked like he was barely hanging on
But her eyes saved his life
In the middle of summer (summer)

[/blockquote][/justify][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

Python
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Pronouns: She/Her
last seen May 21, 2024 20:46:58 GMT -5

bang {bang} python & arx Sept 10, 2013 15:46:27 GMT -5

Post by Python on Sept 10, 2013 15:46:27 GMT -5

She was wrong.

Nobody was dead, not yet, but the earth-shattering explosion was enough to unravel one piece of the story: danger. In a frantic rush the two dueling figures appeared; her father, shaken with madness wielding lethal steel that glimmered maliciously between firm fingers, and Tiberius, who was glowing with fresh rage and leaking blood. At the sight of the crimson patch her small voice escaped in the form of a strangled gasp. Tiberius was injured, and her father was teetering on a dangerous ledge between sanity and its antithesis. With death in his hand there was no predicting what damage he would cause. Royce’s life had been enough, and that was premeditated. This was three lives balancing themselves on the tops of his bullets, and Magnus was the one in control of it all. Thst was what the man craved most, control along with wealth and power. It was his obsession. After the death of his beloved wife - a temporary loss of that control - he had strived to rule over everything, Valencia being the prime target. He selected her friends, he established the rules, he forbid behaviors he did not approve of and she was the lonely doll in his little house, sitting prim and proper while he moved each one of her limbs as if she had no mind of her own.

Now that the contract was in place and practically permanent, his control reached far beyond what she had ever imagined. This time was like every other; he wanted to command the situation by reducing his threats to their least menacing form - in this case, a corpse. But there was something different about this moment. As he pointed the barrel between her panicked eyes she saw something wild swirling inside of his, a contradiction to his goals. He was trying to control a situation with lack of control over his own emotions, and something had cracked during this impossible process. She had always known her father was disturbed and unstable, but to give her death’s invitation was something unimaginable. Yet, she did not feel surprised by his betrayal. Terror was the only thing that struck her heart. A fear of his rage, a fear of his bullet, a fear of death. Nothing had ever prepared her for this moment. Any rational human being would scurry out of his line of fire, but this was her family. This was different. This was surreal, and with blood her running thick like icy slush she was in no condition to move.

Her body tensed at the deafening sound of gunfire. Where she anticipated pain or blackness she felt life instead, her heart thumping like a hammer against a metal cage. She didn’t recall closing her eyes to face death blindly, but she had, and now reality was forcing them open. A few stunned blinks told her that she was on the ground, unscathed and temporarily safe. That’s when she spotted the scattered droplets of blood beneath two staggering feet:

"Dexter!" There was blood gushing from his shoulder, painting his skin red. Realization struck home: He pushed me. She wasn’t sure if it was the act of a hero or the act of a fool, but he had rescued her from death and successfully evaded it himself by taking a lucky bullet to the shoulder rather than the rib cage. Heroic or not, though, the villain was still undefeated and armed with fire in his eyes, both from sadistic pleasure and fury. As Dexter wrestled the pain and remained boldly on his feet Magnus aimed again, determined to lodge a bullet in her skull. She now had the sense to scramble to her feet and plead for his mercy.

”Father, please..” she croaked, trembling beneath the eye of his gun. She tried to appeal to his ears with her sweetest voice - the voice of his little girl, who he was supposed to raise with compassion rather than tyranny - and addressing him properly by the name “father”, just as he had always asked. His expression, however, didn’t falter. Whatever devil was inside of him would not leave, and Tiberius was the one to catch his finger twitching along the trigger. ”Magnus, no!” It was too late to persuade him. He fired another bullet as Tiberius knocked him backwards with balled fists, but Valencia didn’t see any of it. The sound of what should’ve been imminent death squeezed a shriek out of her throat and shook the walls of their mansion, further terrifying the maids and servants who had sought hiding places in closets and beneath tables. Her scream halted abruptly when the fire in her chest shocked her lungs into silence. She was on the floor again, spine against carpet, eyes shut and leaking tears, hands clutched to a red stain in her silk shirt where a hole could be seen in the fabric. She gasped helplessly, wondering if the bullet had struck her lungs or her heart. The amount of blood told her that her heart was intact. Her long breaths told her that she would still breathe on. No vital organs had been penetrated.

She was alive.

As the pain spread like an infection through her chest the pressure against her lungs eased up, and she could use her voice again. The most she could muster was a wail of agony as she rolled to her uninjured side and curled her knees to her chest. The scuffle happening just ten feet away was lost to her roaring ears. It was as if flames had consumed her; only its crackling could be heard and its heat felt. Living a pampered life had left her unprepared for anything as painful as this. If the sensation alone did not steal her consciousness, the blood loss would.

Perhaps she would die after all.[/blockquote][/justify][/color]

Last Edit: Sept 10, 2013 15:53:35 GMT -5 by Python